Art of Love
by lizrocks19
Summary: Riley and Paco are sent to art camp over the summer for totally different reasons. Riley really wants to persue a career as an artist where as Paco was sent there to keep outta trouble. Not as dumb as it sounds. There's strong language!
1. Chapter 1

**Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, guys! I am seriously in love with the book Perfect Chemistry. Alex and Brit for life. 3 Anyway, I've kinda had this for a while, it's a cute romance. Paco is a bad boy, sorta, who gets sent to an Art camp to curb his bad habit of spray painting walls. Riley, a girl, gets mistaken by a guy because of her name. ): They get stuck in a cabin together. Ahaha _Summer lovin', happened so faaaaaaast. _Ahem, sorry. Anyway, I don't own anything. Though I really want to. And please reviewww!**

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Paco

There is nothing better than spray painting the shit outta some old wall on an early summer's night. A warm breeze flies over my neck. The smell of cigarettes, alcohol, and something a little stronger fills the air under this bridge. A wet, sucking sound makes its way from where my _perdedores amigos _are. They're all probably stoned outta their minds by now. _¡__Qu__é__ idiotas!_

The familiar hiss of the spray can is all I need to be calm. Fuck gettin' high and drunk. A little five finger discounted can is better than any drug people sell. Not to mention, _mi papá _would kick my ass to the curb. If there's one person I'm scared of, it's him. He took on the whole fuckin' Latino Bloods and came out alive. He has the damned brand marks to prove it. Yeah, _mi pap__á__'s _a tough mother fucker. Ain't no way I'm getting' on his bad side.

I don't even know what I'm spraying. I just let my hand work before my mind gets a chance to overpower it. It's worked so far. A bunch of black outlined squares are on the wall. Reaching into my backpack, I pull out a blue-gray colored spray can start the background. It reminds me of a city somewhere.

"Paco, stop painting and join the party." Jasmine purrs in my ear. Her body is pressed against my back, hands roaming across my chest hungrily. She lowers her head to my neck and begins to suck on it. It feels damn good too. But I ain't about to give in. This badass _mamacita _used to be _mi novia. _Along with at least three other guys in my crew. At the same time. She's been trying to get me back for a while now, but there's no way. I play people, not get played.

I push her away. "_Detener_," I hiss. She stands there with a pout on her perfectly lush lips. Her caramel colored arms are crossed over her medium sized _chichis. _It enhances them more than her skin tight black tank and skinny jeans could. Just lookin' at her makes me want her again. But I know it's wrong. Like I said, I don't get played. Especially not twice. Shrugging, I turn back to my art.

After adding one more little spray, I take a step back and look at it. The blocky buildings are shining in a metallic way standing out against the smog background. Below, little red, white, and silver cars zoom by. My lower lip puckers in a facial shrug. _Todo esta bien._

Red and blue lights lick the glossy paint of my drawing. My body tenses. _¡__Mierda! __¡__La policia! _Man, if I get caught one more time _mi pap__á__'s _gonna have my ass. Dropping my spray can, I begin to run. The rest of my crew is beside me. Minus the ones who were too _mierda de cara _to get their asses off the ground.

I was always a fast runner; the fastest in school. I remember when I was little and some old hombré challenged me to a race. I ended up running circles around the dumbass. He didn't even know what happened. Sadly, I can't outrun a car. Yet. But I'm always up for the challenge. And the _policia _are hot on my trail. Catching my breath, I stop.

Before I know it, I'm getting pressed against the cool metal of the cop car. "Hey, Paco," a gruff voice says in my ear. Man, if I had a dime every time I heard this voice, I would be set for college. Officer Dave and I go waaaay back. I think I first met the guy when I was thirteen. He has a big stomach and some kinda freakish facial hair. He looks like somethin' outta a cartoon, I swear. He has some bushy ass eyebrows and a goatee that covers his lips.

I cast a grin over my shoulder. "_Tarde, Oficial _Dan. What brings you out so late?" He shoves me harder against the car, muttering about how much of a smart ass I am. I pretend it has the undercurrent of affection. After passing the breathalyzer, I get shoved into the back of the car. I try to get comfortable, but it's hard when the back reeks of piss. "You ever wash this damned thing?"

Behind those wild 'brows, _Oficial _Dan meets me eyes in the mirror with a glare. I think. "It keeps kids from wanting to get stuck in this mess again." His voice reminds me of what a bear would sound like. Deep, rumbling. I'm sure back in the day it was forceful. Today it makes me laugh.

"_S__í,_ it works so well on me." I smirk. He rolls his eyes and barks for me to shut up. I love you too, Dan. He switches on the radio and turns to country. My Latino roots are shaking as the "yokel" cries out about having someone taken from them. Groaning, I lean my head against the seat. When is this ride over?

By the end of the ride, I am completely sick. From the smell of the piss and the hick anthems, I think I'm gonna vomit all over the floor. _Oficial _Dan pulls up to _mi casa _and drags me outta the car. I almost talk about how I like it rough when _mi papí _comes storming out like a _fuera del palo del infierno. ¡Mierda! _He looks pissed. _Mi mamá _is right behind him, hair curling at the ends. Her sapphire eyes are filled with disappointment. I look away, setting my jaw. I'm tough. _Mi mamá's _stares shouldn't make me feel sorry. Besides, I ain't sorry. It's the best painting I've done yet.

I rub where the cuffs chaffed my skin as I get released. Danny-boy fills _mi papa _in on what happened. He seems to relax when he gets to the part that I am perfectly sober. _Gracias _for believing in my decency _Dad. Oficial _Dan tips his hat and gets into the car. It sinks under his weight. Putting on the sirens, he speeds away. _¡Coño!_

I don't get why he leaves. Once _mi papá's _done with me, they're gonna need a damned ambulance. I try my best to give him an apologetic look, but I can't find the need to muster it up. So, instead, I square my shoulders and give him a cold look. Sighing, he rakes a tanned hand through his thick Latino mane. "Aye, Paco." He looks at a loss of words.

"He said I was clean." I shrug. No need to get pissy. It's not like I'm drunk and high and worshiping Satan.

"_Sí_, but you were destroyin' public property." The again is implied. There's a fire burnin' in the back of his eyes. He looks like he wants to beat the crap outta me, but is in some serious kinda Zen mode. His shoulders are slumped like a teenager who doesn't give a fuck, but the thin line of his mouth tells me otherwise.

I snort. "If anythin', I improved the piece'a shit buildings."

"That's not the point." _Papá _sighs. He looks at me. "You can't just run around paintin' whatever you feel like."

"Can't you find another way to use your artistic talents?" _Mamá's _voice breaks through the night like the sun coming from the clouds. Her hands are wrung together tightly and she's chomping on her lower lip. Okay, so, as much as I try to be a badass, I have a soft spot for _mi mamá. _What boy doesn't? The hard knot of manliness in my stomach untwists a little.

I shrug, keeping my arrogance strong. Just because I'm a little less angry on the inside, don't mean I gotta show it. _Papá _gives me a shove to the door. Seething, I go inside. He holds the door open for _Mamá _and kisses the top of her forehead. Her hands become less tense. "Paco!" He snaps just as I make it to the first step of the staircase leading to the upstairs.

"_Sí_?" I plant my ass on the step and cock an eyebrow at him. He gives me a cold stare. _Mamá's _watching me, eyes filled with sympathy. I dunno which is worse to look at. Instead, I look at my wrists. Red, puckered rashes are startin' to show up.

"We aren't done talking about this." He sounds like someone of high authority. I nearly puke. Keeping _Mamá _under his arm, he sweeps her into the kitchen. Low whispers come from the kitchen and I cup my ear, straining to hear.

"Alex, what are we gonna do?" She sounds really upset.

A sigh. "_Mamacita, _I dunno. This is the fifth time he's been pulled in in the last month. Groundin' him doesn't work, he doesn't value anythin', so _no lo sé._"

There's a rustling, like from paper. "Oh! Alex! Look!" An excitement rises in _Mamá's _voice. There's more rustling. I guess he's taking the paper. They're both quiet for a second.

"Eres genial!" He exclaims. _Mamá _giggles and I know she doesn't get it. "You're brilliant, _Mamacita._"


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm thinking about just adding Riley and Paco's pov at the same time, unless I end one on a cliff hanger. (:**

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Riley

"C'mon, Riley, you only have a few more to go," cheers my perky friend. Her long, brunet hair hangs straight to her breasts. Blond streaks are strategically placed. I should know how close they come to being symmetrical; I did them. She has a tan, a stud in her nose, and a lot of eyeliner. Her normally dark attire has been replaced with shorts and a t-shirt. I can't help the envy that washes over me. She has more confidence than I do. I barely wear capri's without getting self-consciously.

I groan, my stomach aflame. I've been trying (and failing) to get in shape for years now. I don't think I can get over the burning sensation while you work out or the soreness after. It's just annoying and uncomfortable. Of course, so are the stares of people at school. And so is the pricking feeling in the back of my neck every time someone laughs with my back to them. Yeah, I'm majorly paranoid, but I'm trying not to show it.

"I…hate…you…" I grunt. I don't mean it. I could never hate Amber. Our loyalty knows no bounds. When we were in first grade, she had a heart problem. Even though we were in a fight, I was by her side, yelling at the lunch aides to get help. She's been eternally grateful and I always manage to blush when she brings it up.

Finally, I reach my target amount of crunches. Heaving a sigh of delight, I lay down on the mat of the gym, gulping in air. Sweat forms at the crown of my head, leaving a cooling trail down my face. Amber hands me a water bottle which I eagerly accept. After downing half of the bottle, I give her a breathless smile. "Your turn."

"Oh, no," She shakes her head, pointing a tanned finger my way accusingly. "_You're _getting in shape. Not me." I suppress an eye roll. All she complains about is how much weight she gains. As if hearing my thoughts, she straightens her back. "I'm dieting. I don't need to work out."

I turn to the ceiling again. I stare until the black spots in the tiles begin to morph and turn all white. I keep staring at the ceiling, catching my breath. My mouth twitches up into a grin as I think of a way to get her to workout. "I bet Tiff would want you to."

"Oh, no. You did _not _just go there." Her mouth is popped open in mock shock. Yeah, Amber's a lesbian. A recently discovered one, I might add. Tiff is her newest go-after. I don't know much about her, but she's better than Jamie. And we'll leave it at that. All I know is that I support my best friend 100%. It doesn't matter who you love.

"At least mine name is clearly a girl's name!" She fires back. I frown, cringing inwardly. My name's Riley, as in, the girl version of the name. I'm so sick of people confusing me for a boy. It's seriously annoying. The worst part is is that there's no way to cute-n it up. Ley, Ri, and the ever so shudder-some Riles make me wanna freak even more. As soon as I can, I'm changing my name.

"Oh, whatever," I mumble, getting up. "Let's go to the weights." I go over to the free weights, picking up the fifteen pounders. A lot of muscle lies underneath my…fluffy exterior. Next to my dad, I was always the strongest and tallest. We're still waiting for my little brother to go through puberty, so while my dad's at work, I help my poor, short mom around the house.

A pout forms on Amber's lips. "I still can't believe you're leaving me for some Drama loser camp." She squints at me, attempting a glare. Her voice goes a little higher, as it always does when she's trying seem angry. She ends with a dignified _hmph!_, hands flying to her hips. Yeah, Amber was never good at acting.

"It's not Drama losers. It's an Art camp." I laugh. All my life I've wanted nothing more than to go to this camp. I'm an artist, and pretty good at it. The camp – Camp Star – has the highest reputation in the art world. It could really help my future. Just thinking about it makes my tummy do flips. "Besides, it's not like I'll be there forever." _Just two and a half months._

"I only get to see you this week and then the last week before school! What am I supposed to do in between then?" We get up and make our way to the locker room.

"Make friends?"

She whips me with her t-shirt, glaring. "I have friends."

"Besides me?" My eyebrow arches.

Amber squares her shoulders, defensive. She plants her hands on hips, jutting them to the left. "I have other friends besides you. There's…um….well…There's gonna be Tiff!"

I nod, smiling. "Whatever you say."

She crosses her arms across her chest, huffing. "Don't believe me then." We finish getting dressed in silence. A loud, animalistic growl comes from Amber's stomach. She pats it affectionately. "Fiesta Potato time!" She announces.

Sometimes I think that's the only reason she comes with me, so I can pay for her food.

I know she's doing this to torture me. We're sitting across from each other in the food court at the mall. I didn't buy anything because that would be breaking my diet. But that doesn't mean I'm not tempted to eat some. Amber's grinning at me from behind her spoon, taking her sweet old time eating them. "Would you stop?" I whine.

Amber feigns innocence. "What do you mean?" She begins working extra hard to scrape every last bit of cheese from the sides of the bowl.

"You know what I mean." I keep my eyes off the bowl, focusing on the water in my hand. I take a long pull from it then slip some gum into my mouth. It's what I've been doing whenever I get a craving. It actually works, surprisingly. The rumbling in my stomach settles as the mint fills my mouth.

Amber shrugs, discarding her food. "Maybe. But seriously! What am I supposed to do while you're gone?" She looks nearly distraught and I bite my lip, momentarily debating whether or not I should go. A pink flyer on the store window catches my eye.

"Get a job!" I exclaim, leaning back against the chair.

Amber looks like she got the wind knocked out of her. "The gym must have made you exhausted if you'd think I'd ever get a job! All right, that's it. We're getting you home ASAP."


	3. Chapter 3

**Let me begin by saying how sorry I am for not posting this sooner. I got sick and I've been swamped with tests and homeworks. ): hopefully this makes up for it. I'm posting Riley's - hopefully - by the end of the night, early morning. God, I'm in love with Carlos. He's my favorite. x3 Just thought you'd like to know. Anyway, pleeeeeeeeeeease review.**

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Paco

"Yo, if ain't the _artista con problemas_!" My uncle Carlos smirks, clapping me on the back. He wraps his arm around me, putting me in a headlock. My aunt Kiara is right behind him, rolling her eyes. After prying him off of me, he pulls me into a hug. The smell of raspberries fills my nose. I like my aunt Kiara, she's a nice, down to earth person. Not to mention she rescues me from my crazy Uncle.

"All artists have a story." She smiles and winks at me before whisking my uncle into the other room. I rub the back of my neck and roll my eyes. Most artists stories are tragic and usually end in some sorta depressed state of death.

The fuckin' brilliant story _mi mamá _comes up with is sending me to some fuckin' summer camp. Some place called Camp Star. What the hell kinda name is that anyway? Are we all gonna sit around a camp fire and sing songs? I ain't makin' no friends there. No freakin' way. We're having a goin' away party right now, not that I'll be gone long. I've gotta plan. I'll go for about a week or two to make _mi mamá _happy then I'll do something terrible. Maybe break someone's face, and then I'll be home in no time.

Uncle Carlos's kids come in after in. They all look so different from the other. The oldest, Cecilia, is the spitting image of her _mamá_. Except she dresses like it's always summer. I don't think I've ever seen her with even a t-shirt on. The middle, May, looks like she just got finished her soccer game. Her cheeks are splotchy and red against her dark Latina skin. Her hair is in a loose ponytail. The youngest, and my favorite, Aina wraps her arms around my leg and gives me an innocent smile. She's wearing a little princess dress along with a crown.

"_Feliz _coopanos!" She says in toddler Spanish. I chuckle and pick her up, pecking her cheek. Her little princess wand sparkles in the light, matching the blue of her dress.

"It ain't my birthday, _niña._" I say, giving her a good tickle. Her brown eyes light up as she erupts into giggles. Little dents form in the baby fat on her cheeks.

She gives me the most serious face a six year old girl can give once I stop tickling her. She gives my shoulder a good hit with the end of her princess wand. One point of the star pinches at my skin. I get it, my tickling her isn't funny. But she still has that dimply smile on her face anyway. "It's not?" She asks eyes wide in shock. Aina's face twists, looking like she just ate a War Head. "Then why am I here?"

"To say bye to me," I shrug, giving her another little tickle. "Stop lookin' so mad to see me, _niña_, huh? I ain't so bad." The sour look easily disappears and is replaced with a big smile. She wraps her tiny arms around my neck. I reposition her onto my hip, trying to make sure she doesn't fall. Jeez, this girl keeps growing. Soon I won't be able to hold her up so easily.

"You're silly, Paco." Aina giggles, little dimples indenting her cheeks. She begins to play with the back of my hair, twisting and curling her little fingers around my black locks. I smile. "Where you goin'," she asks, intently focused on braiding and unbraiding my hair. It's something she learned from _mi mamá_. My Aunt Kiara can take a car apart and back together so fast it makes my dad and uncle's heads spin, but when it comes to makeup and girly stuff, she's clueless.

"To a camp," I say.

"What camp?" She sing-songs her questions, fingers beginning to weave intricate designs.

"An artist camp," I wince slightly as I say it. Ugh, I'm not some loser. Any summer camp is more than enough to make me the laughing stock of my friends. I've tried to hide it from them, but the second they find out, ugh, I'm never gonna live it down. The first one of _mi amigos _who laughs is gettin' a punch to the face.

"Oh, why we party for that?" little Aina's face crumples into one of confusion. Her hands momentarily pause as she gives me a look. Not _the _look, but one that means she's so lost on why there's gonna be a party. Hell, I'm more than confused. Like I said, I ain't gonna be gone for that long.

"Because you won't see me for a while," I say, trying to keep my tone neutral. But it takes some dark edge that _mi mamá _says _mi papa _used to use when he was pissed.

Aina's brown eyes take up her whole face. The hands which were so fixated on my hair are now attached to her cheeks, in the middle her mouth is popped open in horror. "No see you?" She shrieks, like I told her Santa died. Her eyes get glazed over like she is gonna cry.

I set her down on the back of my couch so we were face to face and hug her. "I'll be back soon, _niña_." I assure, trying to get rid of the water works before they start. Once some little kid cries, there's nothing that can stop them. As much as I love Aina, I do not want to be in the middle of her tantrum. Not today. As if feeling something is wrong, Aunt Kiara picks up my little cousin and took her into the next room. I relax. She can deal with the screaming.

My sister, Rachel, comes into the room, looking like someone just died. But it's not because I'm leaving. Oh, no. Rachel always looks like someone just kicked her puppy. She has on a huge, unflattering, black jacket and skinny jeans. "Would you stop borrowing Uncle Luis's clothes?" I say. Rachel scowls and flips me off, tossing her dirty blond hair behind her shoulder.

I smile. My big Uncle Luis comes in; face beat red from doing God only knows what. This man is like a child at heart. When I had a moon bounce at my third birthday, he was the first to go on. Of course, he was a couple pounds lighter back then. Uncle Luis is the youngest of _mi papá's _brothers and used to be the smallest. But this guy's head reaches the top of the doorframe as he steps in. His face breaks out into this huge grin and I know I'm in trouble.

Before I can run, he grabs me and wraps me in a hug so tight my lungs almost explode. I haven't tried to wiggle my way free since I was five. The grip only gets worse. "Ay-yo, _artista poco._" He picks me up and twirls me around like I'm a five year old girl. There's an unmistakable crack from my back.

I grimace. Does everyone have to call me a damned artist? It's not like I'm gonna turn into some damned artist 'cause I went to some damned camp. I'll come back the same man I left as. Ain't nothin' gonna change me. I'd go to kick him, if his wifey wasn't all ready smacking his arm. Her long, black nails rest on his arm. A butterfly tattoo peeks out from her under the sleeve of her leather jacket.

"C'mon, Luis, let him go. Don't wanna ruin his drawing hand." She smirks and sticks her tongue out at me. A little metal ball rests in the middle of her tongue. I try to fight back the new wave of anger. Can't she keep her fuckin' husband on a leash?

I stick my tongue out back. "Yo, get off me." I grunt, snaking around to get my uncle clear on the cheek. He loosens just enough for me to wiggle free. I stand there, fists up and ready. I take a step back to dodge a punch and end up staring at the ceiling. Rachel is grinning down at me, toes wiggling under my back. I glare. The traitor.

Before I can the words out, she whistles and I know I'm in trouble all over again. My uncle Carlos peers out from the kitchen door and grins, _mi papa _looking out behind him. They begin to race, push, and shove past each other to be the first to body slam me. Uncle Luis is first. The air rushes from my lungs under the weight of his body. My muscles tense, waiting for the rest of them. Sure enough, they come and I'm buried under a mound of latinos. Aina, who is now calm and sucking on a blue lollipop, sits on top of us. She giggles and pats Carlos' head, since he's on the top of the dog pile.

"You boys are so silly."


	4. Chapter 4

**I know I said I would post this sooner, but homework and such got in the way. ): So, Paco and Riley meet in this chapter! Hehehe. I can't wait to make the story from now on. Anyways, thanks so much for the reviews, keep'em coming. (: I'll try to post his pov as soon as possible.**

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Riley

My mom was crying so hard when it was time for me to go that you would think I was moving across the world where she could never call or talk to me again. I mean, I've never actually been away from my mom for two months before, but I was coming back once it was over. Besides, I have my cell phone and I think there are computers somewhere.

Anyway, I was originally supposed to drive down with my mom and Amber. And, well, now my mother's a crying mess and Amber overslept. Which means, I now I have make the hour drive with my dad. At least, it would be an hour drive if we weren't stuck in traffic that's backed up for miles. It's really just my luck too. The tension between my father and me is so thick even music can't deteriorate it.

It's not that I hate my dad or that he's never home so we never built a good relationship, it's just that I know what's coming. He's spent half of the ride preparing himself. And now that I've flicked off the crappy radio, I've set the perfect timing for _it. _The "talk". It's not my first time having the "talk" with him. Actually, my parents have given it to me so many times like when I had my first date and my first prom. The only difference is that my mom is usually talking throughout the whole thing. My dad just stands there and grunts out agreements.

Trying to fill the silence with something, I tap the tune to some song on my knee and hum. Silently, I curse my sleeping friend. She would abandon me on the day that something absolutely awkward was going to happen. I should have seen it coming. Amber has the worst timing in the world. Or, maybe, it's the best. She always tends to leave me in the most awkward situations possible. Sometimes I wonder if that's her sixth sense… Or maybe she just enjoys watching me sputter about with a beat red face.

Finally, Dad clears his throat. He takes his eyes off the slow crawl of traffic to look at me. An odd sense of relief and dread settle in the deep pits of my stomach. Relief because I don't have to wait any longer and dread because, well, what girl really wants to have the talk with their Dad? And only their dad. Oh, God, what if he hands me a condom or something? This is why I need Amber here. She would say something or do something so we all keep talking. Again, damn her and her laziness.

"Riley…" My dad says in a gruff voice. Reluctantly, I force my gaze on my father. I know my cheeks are red because I'm fighting against a smile. When normal people get nervous or upset, they cry or faint. I, on the other hand, get all giggly and turn bright red.

This is definitely one of those giggly, bubbly, face-redder-than-sunburn moments. The "talk" with my mother is one thing, but all this crap about safe sex coming outta my dad's mouth…? He's never exactly been one to get the point across smoothly, that's for sure. Unless it's a football game, then we all know what he's thinking. But this? With my dad? Alone? A shudder ripples through me and I turn to look out the window to hide another nervous smile. How I'd kill to be anywhere but here.

"I know that you haven't given your mother and me a reason to worry about this – " He continues like I'm not totally trying to blow this whole thing off. Each word sounds harder to get out than the other. Like trying to speak with a mixture of taffy and peanut stuck in your throat. The more you chew, the worse it gets. Red splotches begin to form on the back of his neck. "but your mom wanted me to talk to you about this. So, let's get it over with."

He takes a deep breath as I let out a huge sigh that borders a groan. Our faces are as red as tomatoes. My pearly white teeth stand out against the deep flush on my face. I quickly look away from the car window and back down at my hands, begging for this torture to end. My dad was never a man to express his feelings. This has to be torture on both ends of the car.

"I know there will be boys there. And, well, your mother and I won't be. And…and I know teenagers get…urges – "

"Oh, my god, Dad!" I exclaim, interrupting him. "Seriously, do we have to have this discussion?" I let out a nervous giggle, wringing my hands tightly together. I squeeze my eyes shut, pleading for the traffic to miraculously disappear.

"I'm just saying…I know that you may be…tempted. I won't be there to stop you. Just…just…if you do have sex, be safe. Don't come home pregnant." He finally sputters out. Then he turns his full attention to the road, like there was something exciting going on there. The heat creeps up to his ears.

Honestly, I don't feel the need to comment on that. I'm not going to camp with the intention of hooking up with some guy. Really, on my extensive list of important things, dating in general is way down there. It's just one more priority to busy up my life. Still, I have to give some kind of response. Besides, we both know there are councilors and I'll be with a girl in my cabin. So, I give my dad a thumbs up and a very unenthusiastic okay. Sinking down in the chair, I pull up my hood and some crap song on the radio. God help me if this car ride goes on any longer.

As we drive down the last winding road, the thing that I first mistook for a group of ants actually turns out to be a mob of people. Most of them are moms waving and kissing their kids by while dads get the bags of clothes and other junk out of the back of their jeeps. There are so many different types of kids here. From goth all the way to total prep kids. Some mom furiously rubs at the cheek of an emo kid who accidentally smeared his lip liner. When the kids try to snicker, he shoots a glare through his white colored eyes that scares even me.

Deciding to stop staring at all of the different types of kids that were at the camp before I pissed off someone like Emo boy there, I looked around at the actual camp itself. The campground looked like a mardi gras parade had exploded all over it. The trees were in full bloom, though it was summer, not spring, and looked as though they had been spray painted by over anxious toddlers. There was a group of brightly colored cabins off to the far end of one side of the camp and another group on the other side. The campground was meticulously manicured and annoyingly crowded with tons of people chatting and giggling away, making me feel a little out of place as I looked around from the passenger seat of my dad's car.

My stomach flutters as I looked at all of the people. I am so chronically shy around new people and there are tons of them. I mean, I was expecting maybe a dozen or two, but there are more than 150 people. Hopefully, not many of them are in it for the actually art/drawing aspect as to more of the music and dancing part. It's hard to tell. It's not like some tv show where someone's tapping on his leg and another kid grabs his guitar and everyone starts singing about how happy they are to be away from their parents. And if that did happen, I would be on my way out.

But I digress. I can do this, it's just one part of summer camp and I'll never see these people again. Still, I get out of my car reluctantly. I'd take fifteen more of the "talks" with my dad than go into a flock of strangers. As soon as I get my stuff out of the back of the car, a girl with black hair and deep brown eyes is beside me with a huge dimply smile. I finally see the huge truck that so obviously belonged to her family so obviously parked beside us.

"Hi!" She beams. "I'm Dez."

"Riley," I say shyly, looking back at the trunk. There are at least three more little bags of mine in there and my hands are full. As I try to calculate how to carry everything, her tan hands grab them and throw them on to her – and I kid you not – luggage cart. Like, the same kind you'd get from a hotel. My mouth must be agape.

She gives me another dimply smile and shrugs. Then her eyes grow wide, like she's in some dream land. "Your name's Riley? That's so pretty." Dez says dreamily.

I laugh. No one's ever said that to me before. The most common reaction is some nose scrunch and then they remind me that Riley is, in fact, a male's name, like that's news to me. Even Amber giggled when I first told her and asked me if my parents knew they had a girl baby. "Thanks." I shrug.

"Do you know what cabin you're staying at?" As soon as I pull out my information sheet, the tiny girl looks over my shoulder. I hand it to her, knowing my face is probably beat red from everything. There's no denying that I'm fighting against a grin. "Cool," she beams. "We're gonna see a lot of each other! My cabin's four down from yours." She explains.

I smile. Less than ten minutes outta the car and I'm all ready making a friend. Maybe it won't be so bad. After saying goodbye to our dad's, we wheel our stuff to our cabins. She keeps a steady flow of conversation as we walk. And boy do we walk. It seems like miles before we get to her cabin. Dez is exactly four cabins away, but mine is literally on top of a hill. Like some random cottage in the middle of the forest. She helps me get my luggage to the room before leaving. My roommate still hasn't shown up yet, so I decide to take a bath while I wait.

When I get out of the bath, I wrap myself in a huge plush towel and go into the main living/sleeping room to get my stuff. There's a chuckle and a low whistle from the door. "_¡__Mierda! _I take back everything. I'm gonna like this camp."


	5. Chapter 5

**So, there yah have it. They've met and are gonna get aquainted. Tell me what you think about how I do Paco's pov. I dunno if I have this whole "bad boy" thing down. xD Anyway, as always, thank you so much for reading this and PLEASE review!**

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Paco

I look out the window in poorly disguised annoyance as _mi papa _turns down the last road and into the fuckin' camp of horrors. A bunch of dorks are smilin' and laughin'. _¡Mierda! _It's like these entire damned mother fuckers are happy to be here. None of them are forced like me. Hell, I bet none of them even have a record or seen actual graffiti. All they know about being "bad" is from those stupid movies made by ignorant _gringos _with nothin' better to do.

My gaze shifts to _mi mamá_, similar blue eyes pleadin' with her. She thinks keepin' me here will break me from this – as _Papá _put it – _pendejo _phase. Thing is, it ain't a phase and I don't have a problem with it. It's not like I'm runnin' around doin' or sellin' drugs. Not even close. Okay, so I have a record, but for what? Makin' some shitty part'a town better? If that's what makes me an ass then sure, I'm the biggest ass ever.

Just thinkin' about bein' here makes me heated. As soon as the car stops, I'm out. While I get the stuff outta the car, _Mamá _and _Papá _go to talk to the councilor. Probably about my record and to keep a close eye on me or somethin'. _¡Mierda!_ It's not like I'm some common criminal who's gonna snatch people's purses. A few panties, more than likely, but pity cash, hell no. I'm not stupid.

Some goth kid is glaring at me and I snap, ready to take my anger out on him. "What, fuck-face?" I growl. He doesn't look stunned, or scared. Hell, he doesn't look anythin' other than like what Rachel would look like if I said that to her.

He only shrugs and goes back to pluckin' at his eyebrow piercing. Him trying to look impassive is about as believable as me trying to be nice. It's pretty damned easy to see right through both pretenses. Pretenses? Ugh, my first ten minutes here and I'm all ready talking like some _grino_. Kill me now. As I shut the trunk, I come inches from someone who is obviously a camp councilor. The bright "we're gonna be best friends" smile with the strain that "not everyone is kind" around the eyes would be enough of a tip-off, but it gets better. The _grina_'s hair is in pig-tail braids and she's wearing hiking boots, tan shorts, and a tan vest with badges. What is this girlscouts?

My amusement is reflected in on _mi papa_'s face. I try not to burst out laughin'. _Papá _clears his throat, any trace of emotion wiping from his face. "Paco, this is Mindy, the head of the camp." He gives me a "boy if you mess this up you're gonna regret it" look.

I shrug off all of it and give Mindy over here a brilliant smile. "Hola," to my surprise my voice sounds steady, charming even. Dad says it's 'cause I got _mi mamá_'s ability to suck up. I don't care who I got it from, I'm just glad it works.

The councilor looks from me to my parents then back to me. Her confusion is written all over her face: This can't be the horrible kid you were just talking about. There's a little tick in her shoulder like a shrug. Hopefully she's writing me off as a good kid right now. Which is more than great for me. The more innocent I seem, the easier it will be to get kicked out for trouble. And – _aye – _I want trouble.

Mindy smiles back. "Hi-ya –" _Aye, Dios mio. _"Your cabin is number 17 and you'll be bunking with Riley. " She pointed to the cabin all the way on top of the hill.

Riley, Mindy, where the fuck do white people pull these names from? I can just picture this _gringo_. Pasty-skinned, all black clothes, and dyed black hair to show his "disturbed" life. Dumb fuck probably doesn't know a hard time. Unless his parents take his car away for getting a B on a test. Give me a fuckin' break. My recent disturbed moment was gettin' arrested.

But I just nod and act like we'll have the most super-est bestest time ever like a good little boy. _Mi mamá_'s eyes are glassy and light pink. She's snifflin' into her tissue. I almost tell her it's not too late to let me stay home, but I know how big of a waste it will be. _Papá _Alex will never let that happen. So, instead, I give her a smile of reassurance. Of which, she returns by throwing her arms around me and actually crying. I stumble back under the added weight and look to _papa _for help. He gives me a pat on the back and smiles before trying to calm down his hysterical wife.

I give a final wave before makin' my way – after directions from Mindy – to my cabin. I thank God I'm alone and have time to finally work out some plan to get me outta here. By the looks of the decorated cabins, it looks like vandalism isn't an option. Seriously, it looks like someone barfed up the rainbow on the crusty brown log cabins. Makes me wonder if some real artist went and painted on this or a student did.

There are different designs and themes on each. The cabin to my left has some music note with an intense yellow covering half of the background. It's outlined in black. There are all kinds of classical instruments mixed in the yellow like flutes and violins. Then on the other half it's some kinda calm purple color that is stuffed with drums and guitars and hulking amps.

Another cabin has a paintbrush halfway through drawing a classic masterpiece. It all ready painting something modern and a cartoon. They look they are still drying. There is drip marks at the bottom of the classic piece and the colors are brighter at the top, to represent the all ready dried, where as the bottom is darker. But the paint has probably been dripping for years now. Still, _es muy beuno._

Lookin' around, they all seem to have something painted on them. Dance shoes, a microphone, even some computer. Soon the brown, painted cabins turn into the plain white ones with brass numbers nailed on. It's weird coming from the land of color explosion to nothing but bland mini-homes. When we were little, Rach had a toy home that she could stay in. It reminds me a lot of these. There's the chimney on top, the shutters, it was basically a pink mini model of these. Except there wasn't a small porch.

But I'd be lyin' if I said a part of me isn't getting' creeped out by these spotless Barbie-doll cabins. I've lived all my life near a city. Even on the best block, there was a house that was being rebuilt or just getting trashed. Everything here is literally perfectly spaced and white and clean. It looks like some _gringo _establishment _mi mamá _talks so much about.

So, instead of focusin' on how outta place I feel, I decide to go back to thinkin' about how to get kicked outta _gringo _town. Knockin' a few of these assholes is probably my best bet. From what I've seen, my odds of winnin' are pretty much guaranteed. Finally, I walk up a huge hill and find myself at the cabin. I kick the door, expectin' it to be as white as the outside. And – no surprise here – it is. Except somethin' in mine is different. Right before my eyes is a naked _gringa_.

Maybe this Riley guy and me are gonna get along better than I thought.

"_¡__Mierda! _I take back everything. I'm gonna like this camp." I lean against the doorframe, watching her freak out. First she tries to make the towel cover more of her body then gives up and flings herself under the covers. I laugh. ¡_Maldito_, I've seen more skin than that on one of Jasmine's church outfits!

Shruggin' off the door, I begin to put my clothes away in another spotless dresser. I take a painfully long time to stop myself from boredom mostly for this _gringa_'s sanity. When I get bored, I get pretty rude and obnoxious. After about twenty minutes of trying to fold my shirts perfectly, I give up and go over to the bed. There's a mound of a person squirming in the covers. Finally, she pokes her emerald eyes out of the sheets.

"You're not a girl," she states, voice getting muffled by the purple comforter. It hangs in the air like a question.

So, I make myself comfortable. Leanin' against the bedpost, I grin down at her, crossin' my arms across my chest. I cock my eyebrow. "If you aren't sure, I can give you proof."


	6. Chapter 6

**Gotta love Paco. (: hahaha Anyway, please read and reviews. And thanks for all of your reviews which makes me want to keep writing!**

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Riley

This is all because of my stupid, stupid, stupid name! I really wish I had one of those outwardly girly names like Rebecca or Julie or something. Anything but Riley. Then I wouldn't be stuck under the covers naked with some guy staring at me. And it's not like it could be some – I dunno – semi-bad looking guy. Oh, no. It had to be the most ridiculously hot guy ever. Paco Feuntes – with his smoldering blue eyes and snarky Latino accent – is by far the best looking thing to ever walk on the planet. The only problem, he knows he is.

You can't go to Fairfield High school without knowing about Paco. Especially if you're a member of the opposite sex. What with his face chiseled by gods and the bad boy attitude to back it, he's practically the target for teenage girls everywhere. Even Amber admits that he has it going on. Wait until she finds out I'm gonna be staying with him. She'll flip!

And while having him lean beside my naked body may sound good to most girls, it's my biggest fear. I _loathe _my body and do my best to cover it up. I'm not like most girls who flaunt whatever they have to get some. Amber says I should at least show more of my – as she puts it – "huge tits" so guys could notice me. But the whole thought of it just makes me sick. If that's the only reason a guy wants to go out with me, why bother? It won't last. Then again, Amber is what you would call an extreme hopeless romantic. Most of the guys I've dated were put into my head by her going on and on about how "in love" I was with every single guy. And, you know, when you hear something enough, you start to believe it.

But I digress. Anyway, of course the one time I try to keep my guard down, _this _happens. I'm completely exposed to some ass who probably doesn't even know we go to the same school. And, instead of turning away and apologizing about his bad, he goes over and stands right next to me. Someone has to have it out for me. This just doesn't happen to normal girls, no matter how hard some of them want it to.

My face grows hot as he keeps up the perverse comments. Which means I'm smiling like a fool while bubbles of laughter are filling up inside me. This is taking discomfort to the extreme. I'm happy that he can't see my smile though. Unable to hold his intense blue gaze a moment longer, I bury my head back under the covers.

However, my curiosity has been piqued. Paco Fuentes? At an art camp? Since when does he do ANYTHING remotely educational and especially an art camp? I get that I'm here because I enjoy art. But I don't go around with my gang member friends getting high and kicking puppies and whatever. From what I hear, he's been hauled in so many times that every police officer knows exactly who he is. Some are even friendly with him.

"You need to leave so I can get dressed." I finally say. Bad ass or not, I need him out so I can get changed.

"_¿Por qué? Mamacita, _I'm enjoying this." I can just tell he has the cocky grin on his face full force by the sound of his voice. I've never personally had a class with him before, but I've seen it enough times in the hallway to know the voice that goes with it.

"Yeah, well, I'm not." And I wasn't. Not even a little bit. The only thing separating me from him right now was a blanket. I'd much rather be somewhere else like, say, a couple hundred miles. I poke my eyes out quickly to shoot him a glare.

Paco's eyes trail down the length of the comforter lazily, making me wonder just how much its hiding. My cheeks burn with the intimacy of his gaze. He's just messing, I know, but I still feel embarrassed. It's not that I have a problem just because it's Paco watching me like that. I would have a problem with any boy. It just makes it worse that it's this super stud who has a new girl every night.

To my surprise he unhitches himself from the bedpost and struts away. As soon as the door is shut, I fling the covers off, cover myself in the towel again, and sprint me and my luggage into the bathroom. One look in the mirror makes me grimace. The humidity of this place already has my hair curling. I don't need more shit from him so I take the time to make sure my hair is at least decent. When I finally come out, I'm wearing more clothes than I should in this heat. But it makes me feel less vulnerable.

I step outside into the heat of summer and go over to Paco, who's just sitting. He grins when he sees what I have on. "You dress like I haven't seen you naked before, _mamacita._" He winks.

I bow my head to fight against my smile, thankful to have long bangs. My mom always nags at me to cut them, but in moments like these, it's a lot better to have them. I don't need my habit adding to Paco's over-inflated ego. Not that it really could get much bigger. "Look, I'm gonna go to the head cabin and explain this mix up, okay?"

This is my stress free summer. I came here to do what I do best and absolutely avoid drama. Call me crazy, but I think rooming with Paco will cause more drama than Amber's last break up.

"What's the rush, _mamacita_? This mix up is _muy bien _with me. Especially if I get to see you naked more often," a lazy grin spreads across his face and he winks again. Just the grin itself leaves me all hot and bothered on the inside. I wrap my arms around my waist to hide my stomach.

But on the outside, I roll my eyes. This is exactly why I need to get this screw up resolved. This isn't gonna be my reality where I have to be tormented by someone by my looks. It's my fantasy summer where I should feel like a great weight has been lifted. Paco has already made all of the heat in my body rush to my head. I can't fight back this damned nervous smile any longer. So, instead of even acknowledging his dumb retort, I turn off the porch and start down the hill.

But Paco grabs my arm before I get so much as two feet away. "_Escucha_, I don't plan on bein' here more than two weeks. Stick it out until then and all that – " he motions towards the cabin – "could be yours. _¿Suena bien?_"

I don't know what he said at the end, but having the cabin to myself sure does sound good. If I switch into a new cabin, I'll be surrounded by a bunch of girls who would definitely bring me down a few notches. However, like I said, I haven't even had a full day with Paco yet and I'm all ready sick to my stomach. But just two weeks and then having the rest of the time to be who I want in private sounds like heaven. I weigh my options heavily, going through every scenario in my head.

I raise my gaze to his, unleashing the smile I've been fighting back. It must be blindingly bright.

"Make it a week and a half and you have yourself a deal."

"You're WHAT!" I hold the phone away from my ear as Amber screeches a few absurdities, laughing. There was some time left for all the other campers to get here before the real activities started. Paco left right after our deal was made and I decided to call my best friend and tell her all about what joy my day has brought so far. "Omigosh, omigosh, omigosh! You are one lucky bitch!"

"I guess."

"You guess? Do you know how many girls would _kill _to be you? And all you have to say about this sex GOD is 'I guess'? Well, I guess you're dumb. If there was ever a time to get over your dumb distant thing, it's now. Honestly," she says.

I sigh. This is a discussion we've had one too many times. On the outside I try to keep my smiles bright and common, so people don't worry. But on the inside I'm as paranoid as anyone can be. I hardly ever hang out and get personal with someone because somehow it got planted in my mind that everyone talks about me behind my back. Hates me. Only hangs out with me because of pity.

I've never felt like I needed to try and make more friends. When I feel the need to socialize, I have my school friends and Amber to talk to. "I'm fine. Besides, maybe I don't want anything to do with Paco. He's a dick."

"Ew, you know I hate that word. And anyway, don't you find any of it the least bit sexy and romantic? Sweet, innocent you stuck in the middle of God knows where with hot ass bad boy Paco." Her voice lifts into a dream-like state.

I laugh. "Look, I'm not stranded in the middle of nowhere and I'm not stuck with him. I made my own choice. He's not gonna stay long and I'll be all alone."

"Shh, let me have this fantasy!"

"I'm enjoying this fantasy too." Again, Paco has the ability to come out of nowhere.


	7. Chapter 7

**Heeeey, sorry this took me so long. ): School's getting busy again. Thanks for all the positive feedback though. (: I love y'all.**

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Paco

_Dios mio_, the look on this _mamacita_'s face is so priceless. The phone drops from her hand while the voice on the other end asked what the scream was for. Shrugging off the door, I go over to my cabin buddy. I lean close until my face is a few mere inches from hers. I stare on her lips like I'm completely turned on. "Wanna make it a reality, _chica_?"

Her breath hitches, giving me great satisfaction. There's some sort of squeal coming from the end of the phone that she doesn't seem to notice. She's totally focused on me, making me feel like I even more control of the situation. I weave my hand in her hair, checkin' her out again before grinnin' and moving so close that all I have to is pucker and our lips will touch.

"Tell me what to do, _Mujer_." I tease, bringin' my lips awfully close to her neck. She tips her head back, shutting those deep green eyes. I don't think she notices, or cares. I'm ready to go in for the kiss when a sweet but spicy scent fills my nose. Apples and cinnamon. It makes me think of apple pie. And damn it, I love apple pie. This really sucks, because I'm supposed to be the one that's makin' her uncomfortable, not the other way around.

"Oh! Am I interrupting something?" Someone says from the door. And just like that, whatever spell I had over Riley is gone. She says "No" while I say "Yes". Then, without a glance my way, she gets up, tellin' the person she was talkin' to _adios_. Her silky hair falls easily from my hands as goes over to the door.

I sit there, trying to decide who got the upper hand.

The last time I was at a campfire, I was seven. I was in the mountains with _mi familia. _Uncle Carlos rented it out and invited all of was just me, Rach, and our little brother Julio since all the others were asleep or freezing. I decided to see what would happen if I threw a rock on the fire. Not like some pebble, but a decent size rock. The pieces of wood snapped and sent embers all over. I have a burn mark on my wrist to prove it. Nearly burned the house down. It was the first time I ever saw _mi papa_ really pissed off.

And now, here I am, bein' forced to sit in front of a fuckin' fire pit with a bunch of wannabe _artistas. _I swear if they make us hold hands and sing I am so outta here. I'll take a thousand more of_ mi papa_'s death glares before even consider holdin' a dude's hand. Fuck makin' me _mi mama _happy.

Mycabin mate – on the other hand - is surrounded by people. Somethin' about this _chica _seems familiar to me and it's been naggin' at me since I saw her. _¡__Lo s__é__! _Riley Everett. It was freshman year and we got assigned the same locker. She wasn't scared to tell me I was wrong. _Era nuevo__. _But I admired her spirit. We actually shared a locker for a week. Then she stopped showing up. I dunno what happened.

Before I can think about it, something catches my eye. Mindy is standin' in front of the fire with the same Girl Scout outfit, which isn't really why I'm lookin' over. It's the guy beside her that makes my lip twitch up in amusement. He's dressed the same as Mindy, shorts showin' his chicken legs. They're all holdin' paper and crayons.

"Okay, campers," Mindy claps her hands together. "This is camp Councilor Brent." A few people mutter hellos while everyone else finishes up their conversations. "We're gonna do a little ice breaker since you might not know many people! So, when you get the paper draw something you value and tell us why."

The first few people to go up say that they value their friends or family or their art crap. Some kid says his car. Then it's my turn. All eyes are on me as I stand, their face mixed in shock and horror. "I value pot." I shrug, tossing my blunt into the fire. "Because it's – "

Before I can finish my explanation, I'm being hauled off the office by Brent.


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm home sick today. (: Which is good for you guys but sucks for me. I'm gonna spend most of the day writing away. (: I'm really happy you guys are enjoying the story so much and I love all the feedback. And for those of you who aren't reviewing, you should. Pretty please? (:**

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Riley

The silence drags on for five minutes before people start to talk again. It's all about – from the few people that already knew about him – how they always knew Paco was on drugs; they just never thought he would admit it so publically. Or – for the people who don't know him – how they weren't so keen on having a druggy here. I would be right there with them, but I just don't think he's telling the truth. Hell, I know he's lying. He just wants to be kicked out as soon as possible.

A surge of excitement rises in me. He's probably more than halfway to being kicked out and I can say hello to having my own cabin. This kid moves faster than I thought. Mindy's face is stuck in a mix of pure shock to anger to sympathy. Paco's definitely gonna get some kind of punishment, which won't affect him at all, but that's not my problem. Paco will be on the councilor shit list. All I have to do is lay low and wait.

Since everybody is too keyed up to continue sharing, we're dismissed back to our cabins. Dez was over the whole Paco thing just about as soon as I was, so she chats about how angry she is not to share her wonderful drawing of her dog. Which has chewed through dry wall, almost hung itself, broke its leg, and gotten electrocuted. All in the past month.

"He's adorable, but I seriously think something's missing up there." She sighs sympathetically, pointing to her head. I tell her about my dog that I used to have and how he was known for falling down stairs and getting his head stuck behind the toilet. It keeps us laughing for a long while.

I'm really happy that I have Dez here to talk to all ready. It's like I've known her all my life. The more we talk, the more I realize we have so much in common. Not just shows and stuff like I thought before, but other things like humor, views on life, and interests. Then she asks something that rips me right out of my thoughts.

"What was going on with you and Paco back in the cabin?" She says and I blink, nearly losing my footing. I hoped she forgot about it or at least wouldn't bring it up.

Honestly, I don't know what happened. He just came over and got so close that my mind got foggy. All I could think about was lacing my fingers through his thick hair and kissing the sarcastic smile off his face. I tried so hard to not act on those impulsive thoughts; but having him that close left all of me alive and tingling, aching for more. I've never felt like that before with anyone. But I'm not going to tell Dez any of that.

"I dunno. I think it makes him feel like a man." I shrug, my face beat red and a smile bright on my face. Which makes it seem unbelievable that that was all he was doing; at least to her. I have no idea what Paco was trying to do, which leaves me more than a little unnerved.

"Besides, we're just sharing a cabin." I add.

"Riiight," Dez says in disbelief. But, unlike Amber, she lets it drop. I'm grateful for the silence. Being pushed to answer something wears on my patience, and I have a feeling I'm going to need to store up on it until Paco leaves. Another reason she's so easy to get along with: For someone who talks a lot, Dez has a good sense of when to shut up.

I'm lying down on my bed, reading, when Paco comes in. He looks okay, which makes me relax. If anything, he never looked better. Those bright blue eyes are alight with amusement, mouth curved up to match. Hope swells in me. I dog-ear my page, sit up, and give Paco my undivided attention.

"Are you going home?" I hope he doesn't notice how hopeful I sound.

"Nah," He says. "I just got the whole 'You're not a bad kid, you just don't always make the right choices' and 'Drugs are bad' _mierda_. Oh, and I have a warning. Three strikes and I'm out, I guess." Paco sits down next to me. "You didn't look shocked when I admitted my little drug addiction. Did you all ready think I was?"

"No, I just knew it was bull." I roll my eyes. "We go to school with, like, at least 35 drug addicts. You're nothing like them."

"But I AM a badass," His mouth curves into a grin that's dangerous but playful. His hands cup the back of his head, long legs stretched out on the bed.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." I barely get the words out before I'm pulled down next to him. Paco pulls me close. He fingers the strap on my tank top, lips brushing against my ear as he says:

"What helps me sleep at night is havin' my hands filled with some _chica_. Care to fill that position?"

Before I can tell him how much of a pervert he is, there's three knocks on the door. We go into combat mode, all the teasing and – for me, at least – sexual air evaporating. I go to the ground and hide myself under the bed while Paco yells for whoever it is to come in. From what I can see, it's a councilor with a tired and bored expression on his face.

"Lights out," He sighs, then scans the room, pointing to my empty bed. "Where's the other guy, uh, Riley?"

"Takin' a piss," Paco says, not skipping a beat.

The councilor scans the room again like he's looking for something then shrugs and leaves without another word. There's a soft click and then the place goes dark. I look at the clock and make a mental not of the time. Lights out is at 11. The whole day takes its toll on me at once, exhaustion filling my body. I climb into my now emptied bed and fall asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**I'm sorry this took me so long, but do you know how many music videos I had to watch to try and get a party scene? xD Oh, in case you don't know D.L. means down low and B.N. means Big News. It'll make sense later in the chapter. Again, I'm seriously sorry that this took me so long, but it was a lot of pages on my Word.**

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Paco

I slept past breakfast and ended up barely makin' it to class – or whatever they call it – on time. I stayed up for a while last night in case someone came in to check on us. Nothing happened, just like I thought. But I couldn't put my paranoia aside that they'd come in. I dunno why I cared so much but I don't wanna think too much into it. I just wanna get my couple weeks in and leave.

Which, thanks to my little talk with Brent, will come sooner than I anticipated. That _gringo _was as red as a chili pepper and he death glared me the whole conversation. If you wanna call it that. It was more of a lecture about the rules and regulations here. And one thing he made clear was that he didn't want any girls in my cabin. So, if worst comes to worst, I'll have Riley to snitch on to get me kicked out.

Speaking of my cabin buddy, she looks a helluva lot more rested than me. When I got up, the bathroom was still steamed from her shower. My little cabin buddy must have gotten up early to avoid me seeing her naked again. What a shame. She's smiling and laughing with everyone at her table. Which includes the girl from yesterday, the girl's bunkmates, and a few dudes. I look around, trying to find at least one familiar face from school. There are none. _¡Gracias a dios!_

I sit in the only spot left. An isolated corner in the back of the room where I can see everyone and everything. The girl who is closest to me turns around. Cinnamon hair spills down her back and shoulder. Oh, yeah, she definitely has it going on. Tight, low V neck shirt reveals medium _chichis_ and shorter than short shorts show off her long legs.

"Hey," She says after checking me out. I all ready know I'm hot and by the way she's trying to flaunt more of her assets, she must know it too. "I'm Jessica."

I nod at her. "Paco."

"Is that Mexican?" Jessica bites her lip, looking at me through mascara thick lashes. Is this her trying to flirt with me? Or maybe she's just really that dumb. Hell, her lack of brain cells more than fine by me. As long as she's quiet when we screw.

Riley looks at me and then rolls her eyes, clearly having heard the conversation. You can tell by looking at me I'm a _Mexicano, _more than the fact that I'm white_. Mierda, _my one _amigo _looks whiter than me and his parents are born and bred Mexicans.I wink at my cabin buddy and go back to looking at Jessica. This _chica _is seriously invading my bubble.

"Ah, _sí_," I say, leaning back on my chair to avoid the over powering stench of cotton candy perfume comin' off her. Jasmine never tried to wear that _mierda_. She smelled like…well…smoke and alcohol mostly, but it's better than somethin' so sweet it makes me gag.

This _chica _leans even closer, _chichis _spillin' out on the table. If it wasn't for that damned stink, I'd be more than into it. Thankfully, the teacher/councilor/whatever you wanna call it summons the class/instructional/whatever to order.

"I'm Ms. Crippen." She introduces, smiling at the class/people who showed up/whatever. "Clearly, you're here because you wanna learn more about art and – hopefully – you're good at it. I'm here to take what skills you have and fine tune you." Ms. Crippen smiles and jerks her chin to the books in her hands. "These are your sketchbooks for your time here."

She passes them down the aisles and Jessica deliberately touches my hand as she passes it back to me. I grin. I am so getting laid.

After a boring lector on mixing colors we're dismissed for lunch. I grab a sandwich and somethin' to drink. People have all ready broken off into different little groups depending on what they're here for and then little sub-groups based on what ties have been made. It's just like high school, except everyone's basically a nerd.

Riley is sitting alone in a corner, face puckered in disgust. She's tugging at a piece of her hair then twirling it back down. Curious, I follow her gaze to her lap and see a book resting there. Is she really that into a book? _¡Qué extraño!_

Since I really have no one else to talk to for now, I start to make my way for my cabin buddy. But a certain little red head steps before me, stopping me in my tracks.

"Why don't you come and sit with me?" Jessica looks at me through her lashes, flashing a white smile. Before I can say whether I want to or not, she pulls me over to a table. There are a few guys and a lot girls. From the way they all look at me, I guess I'm the only outsider here.

And I'd be damned if I didn't feel like one. All of them sit there either sizin' me up or checkin' me out. Either way, I feel like I'm one of the chemical reactions under _mis padres _microscopes. They're all taking mental notes about me. Not that there's much to say. _Mexican god_ pretty much sums everything about me up.

"Wow, _Jess_." Some _gringa _breathes, being the first to break the silence. "You're right. He's _muy muy _gorgeous-o." She tries to make it sound Spanish by saying "gore-gee-oh-so". I disguise my laughter by coughing into my fist. Sometimes white people are too damned funny. I don't go around tryin' to sound British or like some hick, so why do they go around trying to be Mexican?

This "gorgeous-o" stud sits down across from _Jess_, tryin' to finish his food. I'm a growing teenage boy who hasn't eaten since yesterday. If I don't eat something soon, there will be problems. I don't even try to make any conversations with them until I'm done the sandwich.

As soon as I do, one of the girls – Patricia (Again, white people and their weird fuckin' names) – leans toward me. She cups her hand to my ears and whispers:

"Have you heard about the party tonight?"

I shake my head. "Well, it's tonight in the woods behind Jess's cabin. You should so come. But it's totally on the D.L. so you can't tell anyone." Patty (as all her friends call her) says before flipping her hair over her shoulder and leaning away.

The amount of trouble I could get in if I got to a party overwhelms my mind. Especially if I make myself get caught. The thought makes me grin. "Of course I'll come."

By the end of the day this "D.L" _fiesta _was "B.N". Everyone was buzzing about it in the art "instructional". But, _Dios_, I had no idea that there would be so many people here. The forest is littered with as many teens and their laughter as there are beer cans and cigarette butts.

There's no music but I can still see people dancing in the moonlight and the glow of iPods. Teens are grinding up against each other with beer cans in hand. It looks like a scene from one of those kinky music videos; half naked girls grinding on each other and guys; people off making out; and a bunch of alcohol and drugs. All it's missing is the smoke and multi-colored strobe lights.

One of the girls at the table today comes over to me. She slips one of her ear phones into my ear and then starts grinding to the beat. I'm not drunk enough to think this is normal, but more as highly amusing. When she sees the huge grin on my face, she smiles at me seductively. Lacing her fingers in my hair, she crushes our lips together in a wet, sloppy, drunken kiss.

I think about Riley. Is she really as good as she makes herself out to be or is there some wild side of her? I remember her sitting back at the cabin with her pajamas on and a book in her hand, reminding me that the councilors check to make sure we're asleep by 11. No matter how hard I try, I can't picture her getting drunk and flinging herself at guys.

She's too…not prudish like _mi amigos _would say…but classy. Sweet. Mature. The drunk ass person I'm making out with now starts to morph into Riley's gentle face with its quiet but strong and beautiful looks. I groan, not from being turned on by the girl, but from confusion. How did making out with some _puta _turn into fantasies about my cabin buddy?

"Wow, Lacey," Patty hisses, pulling the _chica borracha _Lacey away. Patty jabs an accusing manicured finger into the other girl's shoulder. "You KNOW he's Jess's."

That's news to me. "Oh, get real. It's not like she owns him," Lacey says, rolling her eyes. She tosses her hair over her shoulder and then rests her hands on her hips. That's a bitch stance if I ever saw one. "Besides, you want me, don't you, Pablo?"

I almost laugh. "I want beer."

I walk away, leaving Patty and Lacey to duke it out. The beer is just sitting in boxes that were place right behind the cabin. It's pretty well hidden behind a bush – if the councilor comes from the right side. I pick up a can and crack it open, taking a few long pulls.

The eerie silence of this party is driving me insane. I'm more of a "blast away all the thoughts in my mind" kinda partier. Especially now that a certain little green-eyed temptress has invaded my mind. I swear under my breath. Riley isn't like Patty or Lacey or any other girls that put "Y"'s at the end of their names to be girly. She's the kind of girl where all the strings have to be there for anything to happen. And I'm not some balloon; being tied down isn't what I want.

Before I know it, the beer is gone and I'm reaching for another. Then another. My mind is filling with a beer filled daze. No thoughts are coming straight and I'm basking in it.

Someone comes behind me and deliberately wraps their arms around my waist, feeling me up. They're nibbling on my ear lobe. "I've missed you." They say before lowering their lips to my neck.

Then that overwhelming stench of cotton candy fills my nose. Jess. Jess who doesn't want anything other than to have a good time; doesn't need to have some boyfriend sending her flowers on Valentine's Day; who knows what she wants and knows how to get it. I turn around and push her against the cabin wall before kissing her back. Her mouth opens as an immediate response and she starts to grind against. I groan, pulling her close. No strings. Nothing.

We make it into her cabin and she starts to get undressed. Before anything real can happen, a _gringo _busts in with a crazed look in his eye. He eyes me and Jess before his eyes become a straight up inferno of rage. _¡Estoy jodido!_

"Go 'way, Kyle." Jess slurs. "Can't you ssslee I moved on?" She takes my hand and places on her boob. I shake my head and get up, having enough sense to know when I'm bein' used. I hate being used. I was used by Jasmine and that was enough for me.

Before she can start using my hand to turn herself on, I slip into my pants and head for the door. Kyle glares at me and I shrug. She didn't tell me that there was someone else in her life. "Not my fault." I say then head back to my cabin.


	10. Chapter 10

**What kinda Perfect Chemistry fanfiction would this be if the characters didn't play pranks on each other, am I right? You know what's funny, I'm no where NEAR as bad ass as I make my characters. Anyway, pleeeeeeeeeeeeeease review. It'd make me love you so much more. Pretty, pretty, pretty please?**

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Riley

So, Paco came waltzing – or stumbling, as it were – back into the cabin at 1 o'clock in the morning. Not only was I dead asleep, but I was all ready pissed at him for not coming back earlier. It wasn't like a told him what time all cabin's get checked so he could miss curfew. I may have a guy's name, but my voice is far from it. So, when that councilor guy came in I had to run to the bathroom and call my friend, Josh, who exercised his "Freedom of Speech" rights to the max.

I dunno how the dude didn't run in and punch me in the face. And it's not like I could tell him to shut up because than my cover would be blown. This would get ME – the person who wants to be here more than anything – in trouble. So, while I was stressing out big time, Paco was clearly having the time of his life. He just came back, swearing with every misstep – which happened a lot – and threw the lights on so he could get dressed. But then he decided the lights hurt his eyes and turned them off again, causing another round of curses.

It was as amusing as it was annoying. Who knew Mr. Perfection would be such a sloppy drunk? And although it was probably the most I've laughed in a while, I'm not gonna let him get off that easy. In a stroke of luck, the cafeteria was serving goopy eggs on a greasy sandwich. So, here I am, sitting on Paco's stomach waiting for him to wake up.

His jewel-like blue eyes turn on me. I wave the sandwich at him. Grease globs onto his shirt. "_Mierda,_" He groans. His usually dark skin is as pale as mine. "What are you doin'?"

"Well, you slept past breakfast, silly." I say innocently. "What kind of cabin buddy would I be if I let you miss the most important meal of the day?"

I take a big bite from my breakfast. The juices dribble down my chin. Paco pinches the bridge of his nose. He shuts his eyes and leans back against the pillow, face turning green. "_¡Tú eres el Diablo!_"

I don't know that much Spanish, but I know enough to understand that. Instead of having me be insulted, I laugh. This is so much fun. "What? Are you upset that I didn't get you the thick, juicy, greasy sausage? You'd probably like it. Smothered in butter and the oils on these bagels – Mmmm – it's to die for." I wave the sandwich in his face. "Isn't this one good enough for you?"

As soon as he gets a whiff of it, he bolts from the bed and into the bathroom. Paco barely makes it before he pukes into the toilet. Guilt rocks through me. I didn't mean to make him puke, just get uncomfortable. Still, I'm smiling. Not because of nerves, but a little victory smile. Payback's a bitch and so am I.

Once he's done throwing up, I go over to him. After wringing a wash cloth, I wipe his clammy pale face. Paco's too weak to do anything but sit there. "Maybe you shouldn't go out and drink all the time." I shrug.

He glares. "This is my first hang over."

I blink. I knew he wasn't a crack head because, well, obviously he doesn't look like one. But I never thought that he wouldn't be out getting trashed every chance he got. Not to judge him, but all of his friends are a little – well – a LOT into illegal activities. From the stories I hear, its party every night until you forget everything else with his friends. I just assumed he was one of those guys.

My face must say it all because he rolls his eyes. "Yeah, I party, but _yo no soy tonto_. I'm not a fuckin' retard. See, there's this thing called control."

"Which you lost last night." I remind. He groans again, remembering, and leans his head on the toilet. I want to reach out and comfort him, but I can't. A touch could mean everything to a guy like Paco. And while I find him undeniably hot, I don't want him getting the wrong impression.

"You know," He pants, weakly glaring at me, "you coulda warned me you'd be such a pain in the ass."

"Aw, but where's the fun in that?" I pout. I don't mention that he's the one who's being a major pain in the ass. I pat his back and stand up. "I'll tell Ms. Crippen that you're sick. Or do you want me to say hung over? Or I could say you got food poisoning from all the greasy, oil-filled fries you ate last night."

Paco's moan turns into reflex gagging. "_Pare, por favor!_"

"Don't wake me up at two o'clock in the morning again."

Something flickers in the back of those blue eyes. Something harmless and conflicting against his mouth –which is tight with annoyance. "Yeah, yeah, sure," He says. "Just let me finish pukin' in peace, will yah?"

I shrug, dumping the sandwich. "See you in art, Paco."


	11. Chapter 11

**Guess who has midterms this week? Me. ): Sooooo emotionally draining. Guess who's getting their wisdom teeth pulled after midterms? Me. ): But this isn't about me, so read on! :)**

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Paco

Someone once told me Riley was so innocent she could never hurt a fly. Well, I'd like to see that fucker after this so I can look them straight in the eye and tell them how wrong they are. This _mamacita _has some balls to do what she did, which I do admire. But as shitty as I feel, I am not letting her get off easy.

The whole walk to art, I contemplate what to do. But as I get closer, I realize there are a lot of options to explore. I'll start with the most obvious, stayin' here. What could piss her off more? But that can't be all. It would take too long to feel the victory. I hate people who think they got the best of me. Call it the _Fuentes _boys drive, but none of us can let other people beat them. At anything. Cocky and arrogant is what I do best.

Ms. Crippen frowns as I walk in late. "Paco, I know you have no guardians here, but I do appreciate people being on time to my class. Don't make being late a habit. I just gave an art assignment." She hands me a pencil that was tucked behind her curly black hair. "I want to see what you can draw. I need a hand, a person, a house, and some nature things. You have all day to work on it."

I nod, givin' my famous smile that no one can resist. "Ok, _Señora. Lo siento _about bein' late. It won't happen again."

She shrugs and walks away. So much for my smile.

Surprise, surprise, Jess isn't here today at all. Not that I expected her to be. No matter how fucked up I think I was, somethin' tells me she was way worse. Everyone is talking about the party and how me and her hooked up. While we were high. In an instructor's cabin. Then got caught. Which – in their minds – explains why Jess isn't here, but not why I am. Apparently, it was a chick that caught and I had sex with her to get out of it.

Everyone pulled their desks together to work in groups. Riley is with her normal people, but she's not paying them any attention. Whatever she's drawin', she's completely into it. Riley looks just like she did when I saw her readin', completely focused. I don't wanna deal with rumors at Jess's table, so I pull up a chair next to my cabin buddy and set my stuff down on her desk.

She eyes it in distaste then goes back to workin'. "I'm surprised you're here." Riley says, furiously erasing something.

"And miss seeing your _hermosa cara?_ Not a chance." I make a big deal of checkin' her out. She's wearing a hoodie, with the sleeves pushed up to her elbows, and pants that end below her knees. What is this, fall? Everyone else is wearing hardly anything.

"Thanks." She says dryly.

The same girl that interrupted us before is watchin' what's going on like it's an episode of some reality show. Hell, everyone at the table has completely stopped what they were doin' to look at us. As if feeling everyone's stares, Riley blushes and looks up. "Dez, what are you gonna draw?" She says, trying to take the attention away from us.

The main gawker – Dez – smiles a white-toothed, perfect smile. "I'm drawing my first kiss with my boyfriend. Ugh, he's so hot. I miss him so much." She gets a look in her eye that _mi mamá _gets when she sees my dad, but there's a sadness to it.

"That's really cute." Riley smiles, admiring the picture. "I wish I was as good with value. Mine just looks like crap."

Riley sets her picture down. It's a really good drawing but… "Where's the feelin' behind it?" I ask.

"What do you mean?" She looks completely confused and a little pissed.

"Like, the emotion. Sure, it's good, but there's nothing behind it. Everyone looks…stiff." I shrug, pointing to the blank smile on the person's face. Sure, Riley may have no character, but that doesn't mean her drawings shouldn't.

"He's right, Riley. All though everything is flawless, your people need to be a little more…expressive." Ms. Crippen says from behind me. She show's an all too eager Riley how to really bring out those emotions. Riley looks watches with great interest, green eyes intent on the instructors hands. Art must be serious to her.

"Now, what have you done so far?" I was so busy watchin' Riley, I didn't notice that Ms. Crippen was talkin' to me at first.

Shit. "Nothin' yet, _señora._ I just need to think more about it." I say, trying my smile again.

The instructor hits me with a new pencil in my all ready aching head. "Got working on it, man. It's due by the end of the day."

I nod, but she's all ready gone.

_Dios_, I wish I had my spray paints. Drawing is a lot harder than these people make it look. Nothing comes out right to me. My hands look a lot worse than they would if I was paintin'. The pencil just doesn't glide the same way against paper as paint does. So, I've ended up with just a collage of people, fists, trees, and I think there's a house in there somewhere. My head's still fucked up and I really can't concentrate.

So, at the end of class, I'm not surprised when the instructor calls me up. She's lookin' at my drawing while motioning for me to have a seat. "You were angry when you drew this, weren't you?"

I shrug. "Maybe." Annoyed is more like it. Annoyed at Riley for what she did this morning; annoyed that I can't get a single thing right when I'm using a pencil; and damned annoyed at this damned place.

"You know who Van Gogh is, don't you?"

I nod. "The dude that cut off his ear."

Ms. Crippen rolls her eyes. "Well, other than that – which may or may not be true – his emotions were often included in his art." She holds up a picture with a bunch of jagged curves that form a man. "He was angry and depressed during this part of his life. Can't you tell?" She doesn't wait for me to answer before holding up my picture. I wince when I see it. Everything looks like crap.

Ms. Crippen points to the dark lines on the hands and then to the background of trees which are made from breaking, dark lines. "You and Van Gogh aren't so different."

Hate to point out the obvious but… "I'm part Mexican."

She rolls her eyes and smacks my hand with the pencil. "The way you express your emotions is the same. Now, this stuff is good, so don't beat yourself up. I'm here to take what you have and mold it so you're perfect. I just need you here on time and completely devoted."

I don't like making promises for anythin'. "I'll do what I can."

She nods and hands me back the sketch book, offering a smile. "Good."


	12. Chapter 12

**:D I know last chapter was kinda...boring. But that's okay, right? There's allowed to be a few. I know you all want the romance to begin soon, but I don't want to rush it, ya know? I mean, trust me, I would like nothing better than for Paco to grab Riley, pull her close, and plant one on her. But, they need to have little Awwwwwww moments. PLEEEASE be patient and keep reviewing! Love you guys!**

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Riley

Not enough emotion, he said. Everything looks stiff, he said. Well what does he know anyway? Paco doesn't even want to be here. Now he's gonna try to tell me what's right and wrong about my art? My jog turns into a mad dash as a see the smug look in his damned cocky face. He thinks he's so damned cleaver, doesn't he? The little non-artist getting the best of the true one. Ugh!

Okay, so, I'm not really angry with him. I'm mad that his opinion actually ended up working; mad that I didn't notice it before. It was basically a slap in the face, having him know before I did. All this time and I didn't have EMOTION! Something that simple. Why couldn't I see it?

I stop somewhere in the middle of the forest and take a few gulps of the clean air, thankful it's not gross and smoggy like the air back home. It's so peaceful and quiet here. There is no noise. No car horns, alarms, people, gun shots. Just trees. Thick, tall, dark trees that brush the passing clouds like the humble giants they are.

The inspiration swirls around the air like snowfall. You can feel it, cold and awakening; stirring something inside you. The more I stay, the more it begins to pile up until I become full. I could stay here forever, taking in all of the insight that this camp offers. Away from everyone with just my sketchbook and a pencil. No eyes. No judgment. Nothing and no one.

And suddenly, I'm not angry or annoyed. Just really, really tired. It's been a long night/early morning. So, I give up on wanting to be one with this motivational world and put my ear buds back in. The music is fast and upbeat, urging me to run on until I get home. I've gotten good at picking my way around the random stones and bumps that everyone else trips over but when I finally make it up to the hill, I lose footing.

My bra and underwear is blowing in the wind, waving proud like the American Flag. It's the sexiest ones I own too. Amber forced me to buy them when I was dating this boy. She wanted me to be prepared to do it. Not that we ever did. I barely keep a steady relationship with anyone. And he was my longest lasting. Three weeks. Then I ended it.

Looking back, I really regret buying them and now packing them. Did I expect to get intimate with a boy here? No. Did I expect to use these in case the rest of mine broke or got wet? Yes. Did I expect them to be on display for the whole damn camp to see? Hell to the freakin' no.

A few people are staring at it, mostly grinning perverted boys. They wonder whose they are, where they can find her, and how pissed she must be. _Very_. I reply mentally, jaw clenched. Now I have a problem, because I can't just waltz in there and admit that I am the girl behind the sexy panties. But I need to get in my damned cabin so I can change. And wrap my hands around Paco's neck, the little dirt ball.

Speak of the devil; he's smirking from the window. His blue eyes say it all: _Don't tell me what to do. _I smile and shake my head. Think you got the best of me, Paco? Just you wait.

I stayed the rest of the day at Dez's cabin. She let me borrow some of her clothes and grab a quick shower. Then, when it was nice and dark, I went to my cabin, de-pantied the flag pole, and went inside. Paco was there, lying down, asleep. Looking at him, it was hard to imagine that this was the boy who did all those playful, annoying things. He looked so innocent.

But that was days ago. Actually, the first week has gone by. Paco and I have been…managing with each other. Since he put my undergarments on display, I haven't spoken to him and vice versa. I get up before him and get to bed before him. The only time I see him is in art and I keep my head down and draw the whole time.

Which is good for me, but Amber is taking it hard. She really wanted this romance to happen and is pissed at me for not trying. I don't care what she wants. He's an arrogant boy and we're nothing alike. Besides, he went for Jess, the sexy girl here. And then there's me.

But enough about the bad, self-doubting that I've been doing. These art classes are the best thing that could have happened to me. My art has never been better and when I can't something, Ms. Crippen comes in and helps me right away. I've learned so many new techniques to help me. It's great!

What's also great is that Paco has stopped trying to sit with me. He sits with Jess and all of her girl friends. They giggle a lot during class, which is annoying, but bearable.

Speaking of, I have a way to get pack at Paco. I was talking to one of Dez's friends (she has a lot of friends) who is in the drama part of the school. He talked about all the costumes that they have and how easy he could get the key. Of course, the wheels started to turn and came up with a pretty good plan. If Paco could mess with my clothes, than I can mess with his.

So, I'm standing outside of the costume room, in the dark, waiting for the boy – Matt – to show up. No more than when the doubts begin to seep into my mind that he won't come, there's a rustling in the bushes. His shaggy blond hair is the radiating in the surrounding darkness like a halo.

"Hey," I whisper as he gets closer. Matt nods a "hey" back and smiles. After opening the door he tells me that I only have a few minutes to pick a costume. I nod and go inside.

Holy crap! I didn't know there were so many costumes in the world! Or a bigger mess. Though the clothes are hung up, some are dangling or missing things, but I don't care. I've done something that could get me in trouble before, it's exhilarating…and terrifying. Like a whole new me has been awakened. I dunno whether I like it or not yet, but I'll think more on it later. As one emotion tries to overpower the other, I make my way down one of the clothing racks.

I run my hand along the white, satin dress and muse over what it must have been used for. A goddess? An angel? It has to be something other-worldly. Then I move on to a Victorian era ball gown with those frilly lace necklines. As amusing as it would be to see Paco in a dress like this, I don't think he'd fit into it. I don't want to see him streaking across the camp. My little virgin eyes couldn't handle it.

I need something that is gonna hit home with this joker. And then I see it; the perfect costume. This trickster is about to get the outfit he deserves.


	13. Chapter 13

**I'm sorry that this took so long and that it's sooooo short. My week has been exhausting and I was thinking about where to take this story. ): Anyway, I hope you can forgive me. :D I'll try reaaaaally hard to have Riley's pov up by the end of the day. And if not...I dunno. Keep reviewing though! Pretttttty please!**

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Paco

Riley has a lot more goin' on than she shows. You wouldn't think that this girl had huge _chichis _by lookin' at her, but – damn – she does. Which makes me think about what else she might be hiding. My little cabin buddy is actually really quiet, which is weird because she always has a swarm of people around her. I mean, you'd think she's a ghost with how quiet she is. She's got this whole guarded expression that she carries around with her like a shield.

But no matter how hard she tries to keep herself locked away, those bangin' emerald eyes show everything she's thinking. Every emotion that crosses her face is reflected back into her eyes. Like today, for example.

Her face when she saw her underwear hanging out for the whole world to see – _Dios – _it was priceless. I've never seen a redder face. Just thinking about it makes me laugh. In her eyes was anger and amusement. It was like they were grinning at me. This _chica _is such a mystery and I keep finding myself getting tangled up in it.

I turn off the shower and reach for a towel, only to find that there isn't one. There isn't even one of them little hand towels that are hanging up. The bathroom is bare. _¿Qué está pasando? _

Cautiously, and naked, I go to the main room of the cabin. The coast is clear. I start lookin' through my drawers, but they're all empty too. Then I notice it. Green, purple, and gold fabric nicely folded on my bed. There's even a little card.

_I thought this would be a good fit for you since you are __so__ funny. Well, at least in your own mind. :D Really hope you love the outfit. I thought it screamed Paco. Enjoy!_

_-Riley._

I shake my head, letting out a few choice curses. When did she do this? Where the hell did she get this out outfit? And – most importantly – where the fuck are my clothes? There is no way in hell I'm going out here dressed like…what is it?

Holding the outfit up, I wince. It's a jester. Complete with the damned pointed bell shoes and hat. I rub my eyes, hoping for the hideous mesh of color and bells to go away, but it doesn't. It only gets more real. I pick up the pants and frown. They look like something MC Hammer would wear. And that's not a good thing. Parachute pants went extinct for a reason.

But it's either walk around naked or put the pants on. I know for sure I'd get kicked out if I streak, so I swallow my pride and put the damned things on. But there is no way in hell I'm walking around with the rest of the outfit. Especially since the shirt has a lace collar on it, like something the queen in the 18th century would wear. Even I couldn't make this look good and that's sayin' something since I'm damn fine.

I step outside as soon as a few girls job by. They stop, grin at my chest, and then burst into laughter at my pants.

Riley better have stolen herself a pair of armor to be able to handle my wrath.


	14. Chapter 14

**Consider this my Valentine's Day gift you guys! HAPPPPPYYYYYY VALENTINE'S DAY, MY FANS! LOVE YOU GUYS!**

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Riley

"Where are they?"

"Where are what?" I say innocently, staring at my angry Mexican cabin mate. His deep blue eyes are shining, showing how seriously pissed off he is. But I'm not scared. He won't hurt me or embarrass me while I have his precious clothing.

Paco pulled me out in the middle of lunch. They book I'm reading was just starting to get good, too, so I was pissed. But, I have to admit, it was worth it to see him knocking furiously on the window to avoid the swarm of students. Especially since the gossip well seems to have ran empty for the moment.

He isn't Mr. Cool – Confident – Mexican – Badass he made himself out to be when we first met. Paco was just trying to save himself from embarrassment. The way his body is though, I'd think people would think twice about making fun of him. He has a smooth, rock hard body with some mean looking scars, I guess from fighting. And then there are the tattoos.

Not gang tattoos and not your typical tattoos of naked women or sailor women either. They're just designs. One is a star, another is some fierce swirls that look curl out at the end like whips. I'm itching to ask him about them, but I don't mean to pry. Besides, I don't want to know about the kid. It just means I have to tell him something about me. I don't want that.

"You damn well know what." He growls. When I bite my lip, pretending to be contemplating what it could be, he throws his head back in frustration. "My clothes!"

"Oooh, your clothes," I say. I pout. "Why do you want your clothes? Don't you like the outfit I picked out for you?" I sigh and shake my head in mock exasperation. "That's what I get for helping someone, I guess. No appreciation."

"You fuckin' with me, _chica_? Who in their right mind would want to wear these damned things?" He begins to tug and pull at the clingy fabric. I wince. If I return it in anything other than the best condition possible, I am toast.

"Oh, you're in your right mind?"

His eyes narrow. "Cute. Now, tell me where the fuck my clothes are so I can get out of this…thing."

"If I can remember where I put them." Paco's eyes turn to slits. I relent, turning my palms up at him. "Okay, okay, not funny. Just follow me."

We go for a long, silent walk through the woods. Well, almost silent. Paco keeps cursing from slipping and all that other stuff. It's funny how someone who everyone pegs as the toughest thing since his father can't handle Mother Nature.

"Are we almost there yet?" He moans again breathlessly. Paco had just asked two minutes before. Honestly, he should save his breath. From all the huffing and puffing he's doing behind me, I can tell he needs it.

"I dunno. I thought I left them around here somewhere." I shrug, stopping to tap my lip.

I didn't put the clothes too far, but I like making him think I did. Actually, they're right on the edge of the woods by our cabin. But that doesn't mean I have to take him there right away. So, I go in a huge circle, stopping at one tree only to change my mind and walk away again. Then Paco checks the tree and goes into a whole Spanish rant at me. What a team we are; he can barely trust me.

The trees are shockingly green during the day. It reminds me of one the scenes from Bambi where the light streams through like an angel's light. I tried to repaint that once, but it didn't work. I couldn't get the same beautiful gold sunrays.

Which makes me think about Paco, for some odd reason. Not because I can guarantee that there is no way someone can get his eye color (because they can't). But because I wonder what he's ever painted. It became pretty obvious after the first day of drawing that he wasn't here based on sketching – not to mention I couldn't imagine him sitting home and coloring on the weekends. So, he must paint. But what?

"What's the last thing you painted that you're proud of?" I ask, mostly to clear the silence that fell between me and him. Paco had finally stopped cursing and talking all together. And I hate that. It makes me think he's analyzing me and mentally making fun of me.

"Um, why?" He drags out the "Why" in sarcastic question.

"I'm curious." I shrug then sigh. "Forget it then."

There are a few more minutes of silence before he speaks. "It was my second paintin'. I drew this sick looking racing car. It was red and just the way the zoom turned out was awesome." His voice turns bitter as he continues. "They made me paint over it a week later."

I remember seeing that. It was the most beautiful thing piece of graffiti I've ever seen. I used to walk home that way just to see it. "Oh. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well, it was community service or some huge fine, so _está bien_. What about you? Ever paint somethin' you're proud of?"

"Er…" I try to think of a time when I've ever looked at a painting and thought: Wow, this is great. It's never great. I find everything wrong with anything I do because – well, - I guess I just need it to be perfect.

But does that make me seem stuck up if I say that? Or do I look pathetic?

I bet Paco's used to girls who keep their heads held high and their shoulders squared, even when they're being told the worst news of their lives. Hell, I couldn't even make it through Bridge to Terabithea without getting all teary. I don't think Jasmine even knows what tears are, let alone showing any emotion besides Bad Ass.

So, I decide to make up a story. "It was some doll that I did. I got the shading better than I ever have before." I shrug.

"Huh," He snorts. "Sounds like something you really enjoyed." I didn't know it was humanly possible to put so much sarcasm in one sentence.

"Well, I did."

"Really? When I'm proud of something, I gloat about it to everyone. Forever."

"Well, we aren't alike, then, are we?"

"Guess not." Paco stops, breathing labored. We'd been walking for about an hour now. I'm fine, because I've walked this amount or longer everyday now. "How much fuckin' farther can the damned things be?"

"I heard you used to be a good runner." I say, just to be an ass. It's commonly heard that Paco has out ran some of the fastest kids at school. Mostly it's told from Paco's mouth. I didn't used to believe it until we both signed up for the track. And, DAMN, the kid was fast. While most kids were on their second lap, walking, he finished his 6th running lap without even trying.

"_Chica, _I AM a good runner." He gets defensive.

"Then why can't you handle a little walking?"

"Maybe you take my breath away."


	15. Chapter 15

**I don't have much to say about this one. lols Enjoy guys. Oh! And don't worry, Paco and Riley will get together, but only when I can't think of any more jokes. ;) Pleeeeease review!**

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Paco

Riley laughs at what I say. And not those girly "Oh, he's so cute and now I'm horny" laughs. It was short and cynical. She should be swooning and falling at my feet. After all, it's not like I say that every day to just any girl. Besides, since she's so damned wrapped up in the romance books, she should be in my arms right now, making out with me for it. But no. She just shrugs and keeps going.

What is wrong with this girl? So many girls would love to have this opportunity to have me alone with them. In the woods. Shirtless. She's actin' like I'm a child that she's babysitting, only checking over her shoulder every so often to make sure I'm alive and not chokin' on a bug.

Now I know I'm not losing my touch, because when I woke up this morning I was still as hot as Mexico in the middle of summer, so it has to be her. She's some robot that was developed for one reason: to make art. They were so busy programimn' her to be good at art that they forgot to put any emotions in her at all.

But her back is a little straighter, jaw a little tighter. She's uncomfortable. Good.

"I get weak kneed when I see you." I continue, quickening my pace to get closer to her. Our hands only brush, but she blushes and stuffs them in her pockets.

She rolls her eyes. "How am I supposed to keep up when you keep blindin' me with your beauty?" I say. She scoffs.

It's funny; I thought Riley would be the first to buy this bullshit. Maybe she's not so hopelessly romantic like I thought. She's more down to earth than most girls. Hell, any girl back at school would have their panties down by now. Even most of the girls here would. But this _mamacita _is givin' my charm a run for its money.

"When did you become so romantic?" I asks, stopping to look up into another tree. She shades her eyes with her hand, blocking the sun's glare. Riley shrugs and starts walking again. Another empty tree.

"The moment I met you," I wink. I catch her arm gently, forcing her to stop. "Can't you feel this connection between us_, chica_?"

Riley's hypnotic green eyes trail from my hand to my face. She lingers a little at my chest, as any girl would. "Maybe it's your ego. 'Cause the only thing I feel is my lunch coming back up."

All right, this _chica _is asking for it. I'm pourin' on the romance thicker than honey and all she can think about is throwin' up_. ¿Es esta loca?_ She should be focused on where we're gonna go at it, because it's not comfortable in a damn tree. But we aren't near any cabins, so this will have to do. I need to make her want me more than she's ever wanted anything in her life. But I'm not gonna give it to her. All I need is the satisfaction that she does, in fact, want me. Maybe more than any of the girls in this camp.

I cup her cheeks, running my thumb along those full, sexy lips, keeping my eyes trained on hers. I'm a pro at makin' girls want me, but this is different. There's a mini war raging inside my brain. Part of me is reminding me that I'm just messing with her and that there's nothing there. This is all just some game. But then the other part of me is telling me to kiss her and be with her all ready. And I don't mean in the usual sexual way.

I mean, holdin' hands on the beach while watching the sunset, or painting alongside her in some apartment in New York, or something else that's romantic and crazy. This isn't me. I don't get mixed up emotionally with girls. Not at all.

My hands grow warm as deep red flushes into Riley's cheeks. She leans her soft, pale cheek against my right hand, peerin' at me from behind a thick curtain of lashes. It doesn't hide how intense her eyes are though. _Dios, esos ojos son otra cosa. _The light catches off her eyes, striking rods of gold. It's like she caught the sunlight them.

"It's just butterflies, see?" I use the confident, cocky voice I know she hates. It comes out smooth and lazy.

I pull out her pony tail. Gingerly, her dark hair rests in soft curls on her shoulders. I put my hand on waist, pulling her closer. Then I reach around, resting it on the small of her back. I try not to notice how right it feels to have her in my arms. Or how much I'm enjoyin' her being in them.

Riley's starin' up at me, emerald eyes shining in anticipation, shyness, and eagerness. Her hand cups my cheek, a small light shining in the back of her eyes. I try to hide a grin. This is all the conformation I need. This _chica _wants me.

I make a point of slowly looking from her eyes to her lips then back up to her eyes before moving closer. The hand cupping the back of her neck pulls her in. Inch by inch I close the space between us. Once we're centimeters apart, I grin.

"You wanted me to kiss you right there, didn't you?" I say, releasing her from our embrace.

Riley looks like she just got cold water thrown on her but only for a second. The shock fades into anger, cheeks filling once again with red.

"What? No," She says, vigorously shaking her head. Her curls bounce on either side of her face.

"Really," I chuckle, tone colored in disbelief. "I think you did. I think you still do. Hell," I go over to her and tuck some hair behind her ear. I lean close and whisper into her ear. "I know it."

Riley moves back, eyes narrowed, arms folded across her chest. "Well, know what I know? I know that you aren't going to find your clothes anytime soon. Bye, Paco."

"Riley!" I call but she just keeps walkin'. _¡Maldita sea!_

It takes me forty minutes to even get outta the woods. Then when I get back to the cabin, I see it. The big it. The thing I went into the woods to check out in the first place. A blue duffel bag is peaking out behind one of the bushes, zipper straining to keep all my clothes in there.

I curse and stride over to it. That bitch! She lead me all over the damned camp when she left my clothes here the. Whole. Time. Is she serious?

But, even though a part of me is angry, another, small part of me is impressed. She did a good job of making me look like a fool. And that doesn't happen often. Besides, I didn't think this goody-goody had it in her to pull off some big prank. Let alone one this well planned out.

Slingin' the duffel over my shoulder, I go to enter the cabin. I pull it open. Or try to but it doesn't budge. My hand immediately flies to my pocket, but then I remember what I'm wearing. There are no pockets in this silky mess. Another round of curses fall from my mouth as I pound the door. Riley won't answer.

I go over to the window, cupping my hands to my eyes, peering into the glass. Sure enough, there's the little devil, reading on the couch. I tap the glass, but she doesn't look up. _¡Mierda!_

"Paco!" A voice shrills from behind me. I wince, knowing it all too well. I turn and see Mindy, still in those weird braids, staring at me in a horror. "We're going to the councilor's office, now!"


	16. Chapter 16

**Heeey, fannies. (: I'm not in the best of moods this week, but this is just a tiny filler for you while I work on Paco getting reprimanded. (: then maybe I'll add some adorableness without the dumb ego side of him? That'll make me happy, what about you?**

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Riley

"I can't believe she would do that to me! I mean, we were supposed to hang out and she goes and totally stands me up! And she can't even lie properly about it. Her mom and dad were on the way to the hospital and she was stuck babysitting her grandma? Really? She could have at least said her brother or something. How dumb does she think I am! And another thing –"

I tune out as Amber continues going on and on about how Tiff stood her up on their first date. Well, friendly gathering kind of date, but Amber continues to refer to it in the intimate way. Somehow when I pictured calling her and giving her every detail about how Paco almost kissed me today, I didn't imagine it being all about her and her girlfriend. Well The HOTTEST guy in the whole world was about to kiss me and I can't get a word in edgewise. Trying to talk about anything other than Amber when she's mad is impossible.

Thoughts of the jester I left stranded spin in my head. I'm still a little pissed that he played such a mean joke on me, but guilt is beginning to weigh on me as the clock continues to tick an hour later and Paco still hasn't returned. I thought I'd heard someone knocking on the window a little bit ago but when I went to look no one was there. I hope he didn't get lost in the woods. Granted he'd find his way to some spot in the camp eventually, but who knows how long that could take?

Nervousness runs through me. Who knows if I want to see him again? Will it be awkward or will he aggravate me again? We did almost kiss. I wanted it to happen, despite what I told him. Did he see it? Will he use it against me or will he never talk to me again? I sigh. This is so confusing.

"Helllloooooooo!" Amber calls from the other end of the phone. "I'm dying and gonna end up alone over here and you aren't even paying attention to me! Riley, did you hear a single word I said?"

"Huh? Oh, no, I didn't. Sorry. I was just thinking about today. You'll never believe – "

"I don't get this girl!" Amber intervenes, bringing the conversation back to herself. "First, she wants me and is cute and we text all the time THEN she goes and ditches me and can't text me back. She's so confusing! I'm gonna become a nun, I swear!"

"Uh-huh," I say, as enthusiastically as I can. It's an ongoing joke between Amber and I. When-ever we have relationship troubles, we say we're going to become nuns and devote ourselves to one man only. "But Amber, guess what!"

"I can't stand girls. They're so annoying and pathetic, you know that? They're whiny, bitchy, and always changing their minds. I need someone better than that, don't you think? I'm so done with this girl. I'm gonna become a pimp." Amber muses, constantly thinking that being a pimp is the solution to all her problems. I wonder if Paco has a lot of girl trouble. Not that he's a shady illegal kind of pimp. But he sure does hookup with a lot of girls.

"But," Amber continues, voice hiking in that whiny way it usually does. "I need her in my life, Riley. I love her. She's so nice and sweet and I want to be with her. You don't understand, Riley. I feel happy with her."

"Amber, I really have something to tell you." I try again, a little louder this time. I know I must sound like a horrible friend, but I've never met this Tiff girl and I know all about her. All Amber talks about is this girl and her conflicting emotions and I'm going insane.

"What?" Amber snaps from the other end of the phone. I wince. It reminds me of when my mom wouldn't listen to me but I'd keep calling her name. She'd finally turn to me and snap: What is so important that I have to drop everything for you right now, Riley? That's implied in Amber's question, only with a lot more attitude.

My voice lowers in shame. "Nothing, forget about it. I was just going to tell you about what happened in class today between me and Paco."

There's a silence then a sigh from the other end of the line. "I'm sorry. It's just that this girl really gets to me, you know? Anyway, what happened?"

"I hid his things in the woods as payback for the little prank he played on me, right? So I walked him about the woods for about an hour or something on a wild goose chase. His clothes were in the back of our cabin. Anyway, um, he started to say all these, like, totally corny lines that only characters in books use and you know how I don't buy into that crap. But the next thing I know, he has his arms around me and I'm against him and he moves closer and closer. But he didn't kiss me." The end comes out sadly, even to my ears. I really wanted him to kiss me like I've never felt my whole life. Not that I'm going to let him know that.

Amber curses. "You got me all excited for nothing! Why didn't you kiss him?" She whines.

"He has to kiss me."

"Why?"

"Because that's just how it works. I like when guys make the first move. It shows they're really interested." I say, a little crossly. I've explained it to Amber before and it's bringing up emotions that I'd rather not feel. Like insecurity and other things.

"Well, too bad," Amber says. "Next time you'd better kiss that god or I swear you will regret it!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say. Look, I have to go. Good luck with Tiff, I'm sure things will work out. Don't worry about anything."

"Okay, okay. Oh, look! She texted me anyway! I have to go!"


	17. Chapter 17

**:) Heeeeeeeeeey guys! Thanks for reviewing on my stupid little filler. Even though it wasn't stupid to some of you. :) Okay, so, here's the beginning of the cute scene I promised. Again, Paco gets the longest chapters hahahaa.**

_**OHHHHH! This is major importante! Me and my friend Xoriotgirlxo started another fanfiction. It's a Fiona and Adam ff from Degrassi. I'm Adam. (: Check it out pleeeeease! I'd love you even more than I all ready doooo! It's called:**_

_**Secrets in Torres Manor.**_

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Paco

I don't think I've ever been so thankful for jeans in my life. It's such a relief to get out of those stupid silk parachute pants and into my worn faded jeans. They're comfy as hell. Mindy made me change the second I stepped foot into the head quarters of the Councilors. I mean, she literally tossed me into the bathroom along with my bag and told me to change right that instant. When I came out, nothin' had changed except my clothes. It seems to be a pretty slow day for them because there's only one receptionist in here and she's been trying to bounce her pencil back into the pencil can. It seems like the highlight is whenever the pencil breaks and she gets to sharpen it.

Hell, I've been sitting here so long I'm actually startin' to root for this little _mamacita. _It's better than trying to listen to this dumb music they have going on. It's the same country crap that Officer Dan plays. Do people think it's gonna calm someone? If anythin', it's more aggrivatin'.

A little twinge of depression scurries along the pit of my stomach. I miss _mi familia _so badly right now. I wonder if _mi mama _and _papa _have discovered anything else yet, if Rachel is wearing tank tops finally, if Julio is stayin' outta trouble, and I wonder if little Aina has done her school shopping yet. I called her just a little while ago and she was so excited to tell me about all her summer clothes and how she was going to be the smartest girl in her class. She's a determined little girl, so I had no doubt in my mind that she would be. We Feuntes's are a smart bunch, whether we show it or not.

Brent comes out of his office and holds the door open. He's still wearing that same dumb matching outfit that I saw him have the first day. Mindy is right by his side, motioning me to come in. I bite down on my emotions and pull my easy, confident look to the surface. If annoying adults were an art, I'd be the master. Slinging the costume pants over my elbow, I saunter into the office like I don't have a care in the world.

Shaking his head, Brent has a seat across from me. Arrogantly, I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest. "Why were you wearing those, Paco?" Brent sighs, looking at the pants.

"Well, I saw them on the rack and just HAD to have them." I smile, keeping my voice high and light. I call it my Jess impression. I can't tell this guy that my little cabin buddy stole them and gave them to me. Not only would she get in trouble for stealing, but they would find out that she lives with me. Then where would my fun go?

Brent apparently doesn't find me amusing. He shakes his head again and sighs, raking a hand through his hair. "It certainly fits your personality." He mumbles to himself before looking up at me. "Paco, you were here when we explained the zero tolerance policy that this institution finely upholds. It's here to stop kids from any shenanigans while they're here. Or did you seem to forget? This isn't your first time in my office. Not only did you steal a costume, but you continued to walk around the campsite wearing it in an inappropriate fashion."

"I didn't hear any of the _chicas _complainin'." I shrug. "And between you and me, this whole outfit is a fashion disaster to begin with. At least on me it has a chance of lookin' good."

Man, I've never seen a white boy's face get so red before. Brent looks like he might explode in anger while Mindy just lets out a very soft sigh. Immediately, my guard goes a mile high. I hate those kindsa sighs. They're the "Oh, this poor little boy who's so confused and alone in the world" sighs full of pity. Next thing you know someone's gonna tell me they're only trying to understand me. Well, they sit around and try all they want, but I don't fall into that bullshit easily.

Brent seems to have collected himself. He expels a breath and leans back in his chair, hands laced together on his lap. "How did you get the outfit, Paco?"

I shrug. No way am I tellin' this _gringo_.

"Did someone help you?"

I shrug again.

"If you help me, I won't throw you out of the camp. We don't take lightly to thieves here and I know you didn't do that on your own. Someone had to give you a key to get in." _Buenos, somos el detective. _I'm not ratting out Riley or whoever helped her, but I don't want to get kicked out of the camp, no matter what. I need to get Riley back.

I open my mouth then close it. _¿Qué diablos voy a hacer? _I'm not gonna sit here and rat on someone who didn't do anything. I'm not a bitch. But I'm not just gonna lie back and take a beating for something I didn't do. I have big plans here that need to be put underway immediately so little Ms. Prankster doesn't gloat in her glory too long. Not to mention, if I do leave, Riley will get this cabin all to herself which is just another bonus for her.

_Dios, _this is so confusin'! I know these guys ain't the cops or nothin', but I'd still feel like I'm gonna pay for rattin' whoever I chose out. I swear the two devils on my shoulder are havin' a war. Yeah, I know that it's an angel and a devil on people's shoulders, but I've come to the conclusion long ago that I don't have an angel. I have two devils. One is just a little nicer than the other. While the one devil screams _Kill them! Kill them! _the other one says _No, just hurt them badly_.

Of course, not in this scenario. They're more like _Rat the dumb bitch out, she deserves it _and _no, just let it go. If you get kicked out, you can go home and paint freely again._

Then Ms. Crippen walks in, hair up in a lose bun. She's wearing her usual attire, a black t-shirt and black jeans with a white and black stripped vest. In her arms is a neatly folded smock and her face has a smudge of paint on it. She taps my head with a pencil like she so often does. "There you are! Jeez, I said you could take a break for thirty minutes and I find you here an hour later. What's wrong with you?"

My confusion meter just went up as high as it can go. Is this lady _loca_? I don't know what she's talking about. Neither does Brent. Ms. Crippen throws me a sly wink before turning to the Camp leader. "Paco over here was just being my model for a painting I'm doing. Is he in trouble?"

Brent looks from me to her, eyebrows rising into his brows. She has paint on her face and some crusted in her nails. It's pretty hard to tell that she's lyin'. Finally, he lets out a long, tired sigh. "No, he's not. We were just wondering why on earth he was wearing this thing. And today it was reported as stolen. You forgot to sign the costume out, _again_, Darla."

"I'm sorry." She says genuinely, even though this isn't her problem. "C'mon, Paco, we still have to finish."

"Right," I nod, standing. We leave the air conditioned building but it doesn't feel much different outside. Usually it's blisteringly hot, but today it's actually on the chilly side. "Thanks," I mumble to Ms. Crippen.

"Oh, don't thank me yet, Paco." She taps the pencil upside my head again. It reminds me of a fairy. The pencil is her wand and with every tap she's doing some kind of tricky magic. "I just stuck my neck out for you, so you owe me, kiddo. Now, I want that costume in my hands by tomorrow and then I will give you further orders from there."

I nod. That's fair enough. "Okay. Thanks again for everything. I'll see you later."

The door is unlocked when I get back, which is good. Instantly, I search the cabin for the little _mamacita _who got me in trouble to begin with, but it's empty. The couch is empty and the bed is empty. The only sign I have that Riley was even here is the fact that her book is marked and resting on the couch. I go over to it and pick it up, making myself comfortable. I set the book down when I realize it's not interestin' at all.

It's quiet. _Really _quiet. There's not even a breeze today to make noise. It's orange outside because the sun is finally starting to set. There's supposed to be some bonfire tonight in this arena thing, but I don't think I can make it. I'm exhausted. I lean my head against the armrest. _Dios_, today was stressful. I'm too tired to even think of a way to get Riley back. But I can promise that there will be revenge.

Then in the silence, I hear what sounds like a hum. It's funny how ears adjust like that. First you think it's totally silent and then you hear things. Like right now I can hear the shower going and Riley singing. I dunno what song it is, but her voice is beautiful; soft and shy, but beautiful. It's not like all those other girls who sing high pitched because that's the way most people sing. Riley keeps her voice soothing and in range with what she can do.

I shut my eyes and drink in the sound of her, thinking about how nice it would be to have her sing more often.

It's not until I open my eyes to total darkness that I realize that I've fallen asleep. I'm not sure what woke me up, the cold or the distinct chatter of Riley's teeth. It feels like someone knocked against the Air conditioner and turned it down to about 40 degrees and that there's construction going on and the guys just pulled out a jackhammer. I've never heard teeth to obnoxious in my life.

Reluctantly, I get my sore self off the couch and pad over to my bed. I'm too exhausted to even get changed. Besides, there's nothing worse than getting undressed in the cold. It's a painfully slow process that makes me even colder. So, I flop onto my bed and get under the covers, shutting my eyes again. I'm just about to sleep when I hear Riley turn over on her bed, letting out a chattered sigh.

I listen as she rustles with her covers and then throws her head down on the pillow. It gets quiet for a little and sleep starts to seep its way back into my brain. I'm lingering on the edge of sleep when there's another sigh and she does it all again. This time even louder and more restless. I let out a soft groan of frustration. "Shut up, will you?"

"I-I-I-I'm s-s-s-s-sorry." She says in between chattering teeth. There's more rustling and I can see her eyes glowing on me in the moonlight. And I thought they were hypnotizing in the sunlight. I turn away quickly before I get lost in them yet again. "It's just s-s-s-so cold."

"I'm nice and warm down here." I say. Then – just to be an ass – I add, "You can come down and sleep with me if you want. Body heat and all."

I expect Riley to freak out and tell me how much of a pervert I am; that I should save all that pathetic cheesy crap out for someone who really wants to be with me. And I'm working on my responses to everyone scenario. Except, she doesn't say anything. There's a silence. Not even the knocking of teeth before I hear Riley's very quiet, very shy response. I thought I wasn't hearing right. "Okay."

Shit, did she really just agree?


	18. Chapter 18

**Hello, lovies! Thank you so much for the reviews - as always! I truely appreciate them! Did I tell you about the story me and my friend are writing called Secrets in Torres Manor in the Degrassi section? You should check it out.**

**Hey! I have a question for you guys:**

**Who is your favorite Feuntes brother? Alex, Carlos, or Luis?**

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Riley

I get off of my icebox of a bed and cross over the frozen wood floor until I'm right beside Paco's bed. He has the covers pulled back in a welcome for me, but he's staring at the ceiling. I hesitate, despite how much I want to curl up in his warmth and get out of this freeze. How am I supposed to lie? Do I lie down with him or at the edge of the bed? Will he put his arm around me or will he just pretend I'm not there? Everything feels so awkward.

Oh, God, what if he expects us to actually fool around? That thought actually makes fear and desire spread through me and I shiver. Paco's eyes rest on my face and he looks annoyed. "Look, I ain't gettin' any warmer with the covers open like this and you aren't either by standing there. You joinin' me or what?"

I let out a breath and close the rest of the space between us. I lie down as far on the edge of the mattress I can get, pulling the covers over me. I face away from him. I've never had a boy on my bed, let alone with me in it. The only times I've seen a guy and a girl lie together was when they were going to have sex, has had sex, or well, they were a couple. And Paco and I were none of those things. So what do I do? This isn't exactly the most comfortable way to lie, but this is such a small bed.

Paco snorts and rests his hand across my waist. My whole body goes rigid. I don't like when people touch my stomach. It makes me so self-conscious and nervous. I fight the urge to throw his hands off me. "Just relax and make yourself comfortable." He says, warm breath brushing against my ear.

Okay, I have two options. Option 1, stay on my side like this all night, shoulder feeling like it's going to get dislocated and arm falling asleep beneath me. Option 2, turn so I can face Paco and make myself as comfortable as I please. Maybe even curl up with him. And, _God, _do I want to. He's so warm. It's like coming in from the cold and just wanting to curl up in your blankets by a fire.

You'd think this was a matter of life or death with all the thought I've put into this. I've debated how cold I would be for the rest of the night if I didn't turn into him, how long it would take him to fall asleep so then I could curl up with him, and even how I'd lay with him if I did turn around. Paco's an experienced guy; I'm sure he's had girls in bed before. What if I turn the wrong way and mess things up? Then he'd sit there and laugh about to the whole school and the whole camp. Then I think my life would be over. No guy would want me after hearing that. I'd ride out my last year of high school as a loser.

There's a painful pins and needles feeling from the arm tucked under my body. It hurts so badly that I thought that there really was a needle sticking itself in my arm. Okay, I can't lie like this all night. So, now I have two options. Leave this incredible warm bed and go back to my isolated iceberg or cuddle with the sexiest man that I have ever seen.

I muster all the confidence I have just to turn around. Paco is a lot closer than I realized. My nose is just barely missing hitting his chest. A little surprised squeak comes from my throat. But I still feel a small surge of confidence. I didn't hit him. My turn was a success! I blow out a breath I didn't know I was holding and rest my head on Paco's chest.

His arms hesitantly close around me, bringing me closer to him. I relax as his hands make small, soothing circles on my back. It feel so natural to be with him. Nothing has to be forced or whatever. Still, I'm trembling but not with the cold. Paco's touch just makes me so…anxious. Happy, nervous, and awake. It's hard to explain but I just feel alive around him.

"You know," Paco speaks softly. "If you're still cold, I heard getting naked helps."

And just like that all these nice little thoughts I've been having evaporated. There's no more awkwardness clinging around the air either, but it's not some feel good moment. Somehow, I don't think there will ever be one between me and Paco. Not fully.

I push his chest so he's far enough away that I can look at him. He has that annoying smirk on his face and winks. I roll my eyes. "Instead of thinking about sex, why don't you think about ways to get back at me? Because my prank was pretty killer and I don't think you can beat it."

"No? I was thinking that maybe I could. You know, steal some dye from the art room and put it in your shampoo, shrink your clothes, all other kinds of mean things."

"I've always wanted to be pink. Then you can steal me wings and I can say I'm a fairy!" I say excitedly. Paco laughs. It sounds nice and…simple. It's not his usual snotty laughter that's laced with sarcasm and arrogance. He seems to be genuinely enjoying this.

"Then you can Ms. Crippen can walk around bopping people on the _cabeza._" He smiles with that same genuineness. I feel something happening here, something new. It's stronger than the lust I felt when Paco teased me about kissing him. It's something that makes me just want to make him smile like that all the time and look at me like the way he's looking at me now forever.

"Paco," I say the same time he says my name. I blush. "You go first."

"Okay. I've always wanted to know this. Why did you stop being my locker buddy in ninth grade?" I fix him with a look. Is he being serious?

"Your girlfriend told me you didn't want to be near me anymore. Well, something along those lines. She basically threw all my stuff out of our locker and replaced it with her own." I say, bitterness creeping into my voice. It happens every time I think about Jasmine. Talk about the reason for my self confidence issues.

He frowns, looking like this is the first time he found out. "I didn't know. I thought it was 'cause you got a boyfriend and moved in with him or something. I mean, that's what Jasmine told me." Then his eyes flicker with some emotion and he looks me in the eyes. "Our locker?" He questions.

I blush, suddenly engrossed at the stitching in his blanket. "That's what it was, wasn't it? Just like this is our cabin. We shared."

"And this is our bed." A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. My face is getting hot all over again. How the hell does he have the power to make everything feel so damned intimate? It's not fair. My little virgin ears can't handle much more of these innuendos.

"No. This is your bed." I state, my move voice serious.

"But now we're sharing it."

"Only for the moment."

"What a moment this is."

"You know what? I'm gonna to bed." I say after rolling my eyes. I pull away from him and turn to face the wall again. Instantly, his arms snake around my waist, bringing me close to him.

"Riley! You can't fall asleep. Things were beginnin' to get fun." He teases and when I don't answer continues with: "Riiiiley, _mi niña mal humor_, you have to wake up. Huh, you aren't gonna wake up, are you? Well, I know how to open those _lindos ojos_." His fingers wiggle into my side and I collapse into laughter, eyes flying open.

"Jerk," I exclaim in between giggles. "Lemme sleep!" His arms only tighten around me, pulling me flush against his back. Paco buries his face in my hair and breathes what sounds like a no. He commands me to not sleep once more and then I feel his whole body go slack.

"Paco?" I whisper, turning to look at him. Sure enough, he's asleep. Like, dead asleep. I roll my eyes and rest my head once again on his chest, trying not to notice the perfect fit. He's so warm and comfy, better than any pillow I've ever had the pleasure to rest my head on. I would love to do this forever, I think before falling asleep.


	19. Chapter 19

**Soooo, I have to right a paper for chemistry about two elements finding love and I called it Perfect Chemistry. xD made my daaaay!**

**And Carlos is my favorite Feuntes brother. I'm the only one outta my friends that feels that way, but I dunno, I just like him a lot more because he is like a big ol' teddy bear!**

* * *

Paco

When Ms. Crippen told me that she wanted me to do a favor, I didn't think she would come at five in the morning to collect it. Hell, I also never thought I'd just sleep with a girl, keeping my clothes on the whole night. Regardless, I'm unusually pissed off this morning. I had to get out of bed in this quick but gentle way to make sure Riley didn't wake up, get dressed so fast it should be in the damned record books, and then shield the art instructor from seeing my cabin buddy.

"What are we doin' at five in the fuckin' mornin'?" Yeah, I'm in no mood for hellos and all that other polite shit that people say. I'd have much rather stayed in my nice warm bed with the girl that I enjoy torturin'. Because, that's all she is to me. Nothing else. No way could be anything more. No matter how much I liked waking up with her curled up in my arms.

Thankfully (for once), Ms. Crippen hits me with her pencil, giving me a stern warning look. "I don't appreciate such language in my presence, Paco. I have a problem with the sink in the back of the room. They need to be cleaned."

"You woke me up at five in the mornin' to clean a sink?" I drawl the words out incredulously. She seriously has to be on something.

"Oh, don't think that this will be an easy task." She warns and I snort. How hard can it be?

I stagger away from the sink, totally blown away at what I see. Or, actually, what I didn't see. The damned water is so fuckin' murky that I can't see anythin' other than the loads of paint brushes and containers that are poking out. "You know, they have these things called drains. Gets rid of all this water," I say.

Not that this even remotely qualifies as water by anyone's stretch of the imagination. It's a purple/gray color that is depressing to look at. I don't want to stick my hand down there at all. What if there's some weird mold growing?

"Oh, ha. Ha," Ms. Crippen says dryly. "I think it's clogged."

"And you assume because I'm _Latino _that I'll be able to fix it? Sorry, these hands are only made for art." I say sympathetically, holding my hands up.

"Don't you think it's too early for sarcasm?" She doesn't sound one bit amused by my comment. In fact, she looks like if she didn't just put her pencil down, she would have hit me.

"My sarcasm can't tell time. It's tragic, but what're ya gonna do?" I roll up my sleeves and try to think of a game plan for this disastrous sink. Clearly, I can't clean the rest of this shit if it won't drain. But I really don't wanna think about all the fucked up stuff that's been down there for God knows how long. _Personas jodido. _Who does this to a sink?

It's squishy as hell on the bottom of the sink. I hope it's from paint, because my stomach's all ready queasy from skippin' dinner and breakfast. Feeling around, I find the drain and stick my hand down there, but it doesn't fit. The drain isn't meant for hands; let alone my hands. This is where bein' born into a family of mechanics comes in handy. _Papá _used to let me help him whenever he had to fix anythin'. It started out as me handin' him wrenches, to him tellin' me how to use a wrench, to me actually doin' all the work.

Of course, he was always there to encourage me to get through the work. This one summer when I was thirteen, we spent every day he had off in the garage fixin' up this 1968 Z28 Camaro. The thing was a total piece of shit when we got it but by the end of the summer it was this glossy silver with black stripes and it ran like a dream. _Papá _and me went out and drove around; he gave me my first driving lesson on August 16th.

A smile makes its way to my face. That was probably the best summer of my life. Of course, then I met Jasmine and the rest is all pathetic drama and fights. My smile flickers into a frown. "Paco?" Ms. Crippen says, sounding a little worried.

"Yo?" I call from under the sink.

"Are you okay? I mean, you seem extra off."

What does that mean? Before I can stop myself, everything I've been feeling pours from my mouth. "It's just…Look, you can't tell anyone, but I've been roomin' with Riley the whole time we've been here. The camp put us together, before you jump to conclusions. Anyway, she was pretty annoyin' to begin with but then, I dunno, I stopped seein' her that way. And last night it was cold and I offered her a spot in my bed. And we slept together. Not like that, because I don't think she's that kinda girl, but like, literally. Now I don't know how to feel because she's just…different from the other girls I date. I'm less of a _pendejo_ around her." I take in a breath and immediately regret everything I just said. I dunno why I said it, Ms. C's cool and all, but she's a councilor. She's gonna report me and Riley and one – if not both – of us are gonna get kicked out.

I can't believe I just spilled my guts about what I've been feeling. It's what Riley does to me! I swear. I'm just different after I hang with her. My guard goes way down. I think hers does too, but she won't admit it.

"You can't tell anyone though." I say quickly.

"Wow," She says, looking shocked. "Well, I won't. Don't worry. But have you told Riley about this?"

I give her a look. "No. I don't talk like this usually."

"Well, maybe you should try it every once in a while. You don't have to try to be a badass." I roll my eyes, turning my attention back to the fucked up sink. I'm done with this conversation before I spill and I bore her with my life story. She doesn't push me further on it, which is good, because I seriously don't wanna talk. After trying a few times to get the drain unclogged the easy way, I decide it's impossible.

"Yo, Ms. Crippen," I call after a minute. When she doesn't answer, I turn around. No wonder she isn't paying attention to me.

She's sitting there with her hair pulled into a tight pony tail and is painting like it's no one's business. Seriously, she all ready has a whole painting on it. It's this face that's different colors and then the background is a long, willowing branch of a tree in shades of blacks and grays. I don't wanna interrupt her, but I need this sink to be done. "Ms. C?" I try again.

She turns to me, the end of her paintbrush is poised thoughtfully on her lip. "Yeah?"

"I need you to turn off the water for in here and can I get some tools?" She motions where the toolbox is and once the water is turned off I get to work. I've always like manual labor. It's easy to show off and I just like fixing stuff. After a while, the pipe comes off with only minimal water trickling out. I reach my hand in and marvel at what I pull out.

Socks. Who the fuck puts socks down the sink?

I call to Ms. C about my discovery and she looks just as shocked as I do. "Well," She says, eyeing the socks, which look like they were put through dirt and random colors. "I guess that's it then. Thank you, Paco. Tomorrow you can help me clean the supplies."

"No problem. What do you want me to do with the socks?"

"Just throw them out." She goes back to her painting, muttering about how crazy kids can be and asking herself where she was when they put socks down the drain anyway.


	20. Chapter 20

**Guys, I am so sorry I haven't updated in forever. Don't hate me, please, because I've just been wanting to take a break. I know this doesn't make up for it, but I sure hope it does. Pleeeeease, don't hate me. Paco lovesssss you guys! (: (: Please review.**

* * *

Riley

"I need your help," I say as soon as I walk through the door. Paco looks up from where he's sitting on the middle of the floor. He was trying a balance a pencil on the tip of his index finger. Abandoning the current task, he turns to me, eyebrow cocked.

"Sorry, but I've all ready told too many people I'd be their nude model. But you can be mine," Paco's deep blue eyes light up as his mouth twitches into his signature grin. I roll my eyes and drop my art supplies on to the floor. "Or maybe we skip the modeling part and just be naked together."

"Not this time," I say.

"So, they'll be a next time though?" His eyebrow twitches up again and I smile. It happens every time he says or thinks something sarcastic. It's just a little twitch, but it's the cutest thing I've ever seen. I sit down next to him and spread out roll of paper, smoothing the edges straight.

"Sure," I say to make him drop the subject. I sit back on my ankles and look at him. "On a serious note, I need your help with drawing emotions. Clearly, I suck at it. But you…you're perfect. I've never seen something so good before." The compliment slips before I remember the warning sign about not feeding the monster's ego. But what I said is true.

I've never seen someone who can sit there and turn a blank piece of paper into something with such…feeling behind it. Such expressive art that could take everything you're feeling and sum it up on a 6 by 8 inch sheet. And it's not just one emotion. There's passion, anger, depression, joy all depicted and shown through unique ways. I can feel myself getting excited just imaging his work.

"Yeah," He snorts, not believing me for one second. "Right," He says. "And Justin Bieber is going to be the next Michael Jackson."

If I wasn't so annoyed at his negativity, I would laugh. Instead, I roll my eyes. "You don't have to believe me, but I need your help anyway." I pucker my lip into a pout and give him this pleading look.

Immediately, he relents. But not without a big, dramatic sigh. "All right, all right! _Dios_, just stop pouting." Paco says, staring at the blank paper. "What are you trying to do?"

"I'm trying to make a chaotic scene, but it ends up looking like _this_ – " I wave impatiently at the smaller sketch on top of the huge piece of paper. I shudder at it. This single piece of paper screams meticulous, careful planning, and placing to try and make it look like a mess. There's nothing that looks sporadic except a few random left over pencil shavings. Even then I swept them to where they were.

"What's wrong with _this_?" Paco says, observing my sketch. "It's fuckin' good."

"But not what I want," I sigh. "I want something that screams confusion and rage but all I end with if something that looks…well, like someone spilled gray, dull, and boring onto the world's best party."

Paco raises an eyebrow but says nothing. A few moments of silence follow as I worry my lip between my teeth. Paco has is expert eyes trained on my wreck of a drawing. I want to snatch it from him and tell him to forget it. But before I can, he looks at me. "What were you feeling when you drew it?" He asks.

I blink. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, what was going through your head when you drew this?"

"Getting everything down perfectly," I duck my head, not wanting to see his reaction. I don't know why it's so embarrassing, but it just is. Paco can sit there and draw something amazing while only focusing on an emotion. I have to erase and start over and change and – and…

"You over think it." Paco's four words sum up my thoughts, but somehow, I'm left furious. Who the hell is he to tell me how to do my art?

"Yeah?" I inquire, word coming out sharply. I glare at the empty sheet of paper before me. Why can't I just get this one simple thing right?

He nods, ignoring my hissy fit. "You have talent, Riley, but you need to have some fun while you paint. Sure, some form is nice, but that's not what art is. Art is about expressing how you feel in one frame."

"Mmm, deep," I say, smirking. He laughs and tries to tell me how serious he is, but I can't believe those words just came out of his mouth. Paco tries to hide himself behind this wall of arrogance, lusting, and stupidity. But he's the opposite. Sure, he's stubborn and perverse, but he's one of the smartest, most thought provoking people I know. I wonder if other people see it the way I do or do they just see the Paco he wants people to see?

"You want me, _chica_?" He teases after my few moments of staring. Paco grins down at me, looking like the definition of arrogance and cockiness. "It's only fitting after our amazin' night in bed together."

I laugh and try to push him, but he catches my hands and pulls me against him. We haven't talked about last night yet, so I'm surprised he brought it up right now. I woke up, feeling like everything was fine but then as I became more awake, questions filled my minds. Did this ruin our friendship? Would things be awkward? Does this mean he likes me, because I like him? A lot.

I shake the thoughts from my head. "No, I _want _your genius."

"Is that what people call it now?" He laughs and then I am too. It's so easy to be with him. He makes me smile and feel great. I find myself staring at him, long after the laughter subsides, still trying to figure out what makes him tick.

Paco's intense eyes are searching my face, no longer a trace of amusement held in them. Our eyes lock and I'm too struck by the passion to move or blush or do any of my normal habits. His hand catches my cheek, cradling it. He trails his thumb over my lip, moving closer until there are inches, then centimeters. I tilt my head up, giving him better access.

But he stops just a breath before me, hands cupping both sides of my face. If I didn't have my hands fisted in his shirt, I'd be shaking with nerves. He turns toward the door then back to me, grinning. "_Esperemos que no se interrumpió_." Paco breathes silkily and then our lips finally meet.


	21. Chapter 21

**Dear guys,**

**I'm so sorry that I haven't updated for so long and I'm even more sorry that this isn't an update on the story. I have a reason, though it isn't good and will probably disappoint you all as much as it does me.**

**I am so stuck on this story. Basically, them sleeping together was the last thing I had in mind for the story and then I would try on a plot. I have been sitting around waiting for something to strike me, but it's very close to nothing good.**

**I feel like if I bring it back to school, I will ramble on useless chapters or something. But I don't want the camp to be closing down because, HELLO every-disney-movie-out-there. I don't wanna disappoint you guys and neither does Paco because, well, he isn't used to disappointing anyone. Right? ;)**

**Sigh. Any ideas? You can tell me. Again, I'm sooooooooooooo unbelievably sorry but I didn't wanna admit defeat on the story. The sooner someone gets back to me, the sooner I will get to work on the story.**

**Love you all so much for still sticking with me. :D**

**Liz.**


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